Cut it out

Nobody believed us when we said our son had hair. "It's just bright blond," we'd tell people, as they'd roll their eyes and scoff at us. If only these nonbelievers took the time to actually examine our child, then they would see the truth. For months, Kyle's head was like the "Magic Eye" images that were so popular a decade ago: at first glance, he appeared bald, but if you looked at his head just the right way, and maybe crossed your eyes a little bit - BOOM! - you would notice that it was, in fact, covered with follicles. Kyle's invisible hair was supposed to save us oodles of money, as I suspected at the time that he would not need a haircut for some time, at least until 2015.

But suddenly things changed. Kyle's hair went from invisible to Einsteinian in a matter of weeks, and this past Saturday we found ourselves taking Kyle to a barber for the first time. We went to a place in the neighborhood that specializes in kids' haircuts. Inside, by each barber chair, televisions blared cartoons and children's shows, and toys and lollipops were within reach in case of an emergency. There were a few chairs in the back, where babies waited patiently for their turn, reading the Sports Illustrated for Kids Swimsuit Issue and occasionally making wisecracks about the barber or the local politicians. Kyle, fortunately, did not have to wait that long for his own cut.

At first, the experience did not seem to go that well. Kyle was placed in a chair that resembled a fire truck, complete with a siren... no, wait, sorry - there was no siren, only Kyle, crying away. As he sat in the truck, not wanting to be a firefighter, Jennifer tried to console him. I continued to take shots with the camera because I'm amused by pictures of my son wailing, unless he's crying because he fell off the couch. Jennifer's kind words were no match for the torture of sitting in a little red vehicle, and, after several minutes, the barber halted operations. Once Kyle calmed down, we tried again, but this time on the regular chair, with our son sitting on Jennifer's lap.

Jennifer and I were certainly pleased with how the haircut went after that. Kyle was no longer crying, and he enjoyed playing with the toys. Jennifer liked the professionalism of the staff, and the fine job they did cutting Kyle's hair while he was occupied. I was just happy they didn't slice off his ear. Once we were done, we received a certificate recognizing Kyle for surviving his first haircut. At the bottom of it there is a quote from President John F. Kennedy, saying, "One person can make a difference...." I kid you not. Now some of you, and even some historians, may think this quote does not belong on a certificate for a child's first haircut, but it really does make some sense. After all, Kennedy had the best hair of any president of the twentieth century, and maybe the "one person" he was referring to was his own barber. He probably would have been proud to have his quote on such a prestigious document. Stapled just above the quote, a bit haphazardly, is a little plastic bag containing a lock of Kyle's hair.

Our son is looking quite sharp with his new haircut. Now whenever Kyle and I go out, only one of us looks like a slob. Less than 24 hours after getting the trim, he even attracted the attention of a girl his age. No doubt his hair played a factor in that. Unfortunately, Kyle's social skills are still a little inadequate, as he once again ignored the girl and focused more on climbing up and down an armchair. I guess a new haircut doesn't solve everything.