Today was an important landmark in mother-little boy relationship. I’m talking about the haircut. Not just any haircut, that the parent performs at home, which results in the kid looking like some hillbilly. No. A real one, with a hairdresser involved and good money changing hands.
Today, in short (ahaha pun), junior got his first professional big boy haircut. This moment has taken me eons to achieve. For months I’ve been trying to drag him to various hairdressers: mine, his dad’s, a kiddy hairdresser at the mall. Today I finally put my foot down, told my shoulder-lifter/mouth pouter that he cannot choose in this matter. But I did promise him ice cream after if he behaved well. Well, we got there, he was quite the obedient little boy, and got a marvelous haircut (or a yucky one, if you ask his dad. Men – go figure!). Ice cream followed. Bubble gum flavored, thanks for asking.
Also, It’s time I tell you about all the projects that are lying cold and naked on my worktable. About the Hebrew alphabet book I’m trying to figure out how to sew together, about the little sundress that got stuck in the “how the hell do these parts connect exactly?” phase and many more. But I won’t.
‘cuz I’m tired, and ‘cuz I said so, that’s why.