So my son has stopped looking like he has a mop on his head. Mr Samoa said it looked like he was wearing a helmet! His sideburns were almost down to his jawline and his fringe was touching his eyebrows. That bad.
Over the past few weeks, we have tried on a couple of occasions to get him to a barber. The first time, he would not put his foot across the doorway. The second time, he would only come inside the reception area and watch Mr Samoa getting his hair cut from a distance.
We talked about treats and chocolates and everything good. He said he didn't want a treat or chocolate if it meant getting his hair cut. "Later." he kept on saying. So on Saturday night, we took the plunge, and forced him to sit in a chair at home while Mr Samoa did his best to hack off his unruly hair and get it looking half-decent whilst listening to the harmonious sounds of his screams and sobs. Wonderful for a mother to hear. At least this time I didn't actually cry myself.
What the heck has gone wrong?
Once it was finished he got to go to the shop with Daddy to get his treat - a box of Pebbles. O how quickly the tears disappeared. Like they were never there.
I'm not loving what he looks like but at least we won't have to cut it for a while!