CUT MY HAIR.
My ten year old son. He cut my hair.
Long story short, I've been growing my bangs out for a year. They're below my chin and just so out of sync with the back of my hair that was to the bottom of my shoulder blades. It's getting hot and I don't want so much hair when it's hot.
So why don't I go get a professional haircut like most normal people? Because I'm not normal. The urge to cut usually strikes me at night. And when it strikes, I want it NOW not tomorrow or later in the week.
My husband was passed out on the couch and I turned to poor Tommy and said, "It's time. Come into the bathroom with me."
Poor child was shaking like a leaf. "Mom, I'm nervous!" I said you can't mess it up, just cut straight across here and pointed to where I wanted him to start.
"Now I know what you feel like when you cut my hair" he almost cried.
I'm such a mean mom.
He did it. He did a fine job, too. It's perfectly straight. Should I pay him $20 that I would have paid a pro? Nah. I'll count it as school. Cosmetology 101.
I cut his hair half the time. He likes buzz cuts so I bought clippers a long time ago. Saves a lot of money. My husband has *never* had a professional hair cut since I've known him. He used to cut it but I could stand it no longer so got books from the library and a few videos and learned how to cut his. I've also picked up a few cosmetology textbooks from garage sales and book sales through the years. His is difficult because he's naturally curly. But I use the clippers on him now, too, because he likes it super short.
Ah, we're a weird family. I just cannot ever be normal. Making my 10-year-old son cut my hair is strange, but he lived. And I'm happy.
Gotta love instant gratification.