About the binky: Taking care of things like that emboldens us to do other stuff we previously assumed would cause traumas too terrible to endure until bedtime.
The issue of haircuts, for instance, has been weighing on us. Ben hates it when we give them to him, and I’m not entirely certain his life isn’t in danger when we’re lining him up for the next darting, stabbing pass with the scissors.
After the last attempt, we left off at the back and part of the sides, which grew out to something not unlike a backwards mullet: party in front, business behind.
Cherie’s been sending him home with his hair rather pointedly brushed into something less sheepdog-like, but the capacity of his behind-the-ear tufts to gather food during the day and spit at night left us knowing that the next step was to get a professional involved or just invest in the proper equipment.
Today, as it turns out, Al had to work late. I’ve got a small, periodically observed tradition of doing something no-one wants to do on the nights Al’s at the office. So it seemed tonight was the night to go ahead and load Ben in the stroller and head to Mae’s, a barbershop on Woodstock. The thing about Mae’s that recommends it is the special kid-friendly race car seat you can see from the street.
We had a short wait. Fortunately, Mae has stocked the place with toys, so Ben was able to play with a toy phone that has the same voice as his toy phone at home, and sounds suspiciously like Tad, the Learning Companion Frog, when it says the numbers “ten,” “five,” and “four.”
Ben knew something wasn’t right when I tried to put him in the car, though. He arched his back and tried to kick away. Mae distracted him with some of the features of the car, like the horn and gas pedal and flipout mirrors.
At one point, Mae thought his sudden motions had caused her to stab him in the ear and she shrieked.
On looking at the collection of pictures I got, Al remarked that it seemed like it wasn’t such a terrible ordeal after all. I pointed out that those were the five second periods where it was possible to back away and get a shot. The rest of the time was an emotional roller-coaster.
I made it up to him by taking him to Pastini for dinner and letting him have some of my tiramisu. The haircut doesn’t look too bad.