Aidan has a problem with scissors. Earlier in the school year, he kept coming home with holes in his pants. Perfectly snipped holes. Not even frayed yet. Freshly cut holes. Hmpf. He was grounded from scissors at home for 3 weeks, and to Aidan, that's a big deal. He loves art and his scissors are one of his favorite tools.
Then last week, he cut his hair.
I know that every child goes through this. Dani did it when she was 2. She still had her baby curls, and she lopped one of 'em off at the ear. I was devastated, and called my Mom crying.
"She cut her curls off!" I bawled.
"It'll grow back," said Mom.
"Her curls won't come back!" I wailed.
"They might," said Mom.
"But she's in a WEDDING next weekend!"
The only way to fix the hack job she did was to give her a super short Bob. She toddled down the aisle with the same haircut Darren's Mom wore. Her curls never came back, either.
This time, with Aidan, I didn't give a hoot about the style. In fact, it was so funny looking - long bangs with an inch-wide chunk missing right in the middle - I had to stifle the laugh. Other people didn't bother stifling it. One of the kids at church said, "Your hair looks like your mouth!" Well, by George, it does. Looks just like Aidan's gap-toothed smile. Anyway... when I first saw the damage, I stifled the laugh and bellowed,
"AIDAN! WHO CUT YOUR HAIR?"
"Me, but I threw the hairs in the trash," he answered in one quick breath without pausing between 'me' and 'but'. See, he was PROUD of that 'cause last week, he got in trouble for leaving his teeny tiny paper cuts all over the family room floor. He actually thought he'd done good.
I asked him if he'd looked in the mirror. He had. I asked if he liked what he saw. "No," he said, hunching up his shoulders and lowering his chin. "You need to take me to the hair cut place so they can fix it."
"I will NOT," I replied. "I don't have any money. You'll have to go to school like that all week."
"But they'll think I look STUPID!" he wailed.
"Well Aidan, you DO look stupid!", I replied.
Sometimes, the best punishments are the ones you yourself don't even have to hand out. For the next day at school, his teacher gasped. "Aidan! Did you cut your hair here, or at home?" When he said home, I'm sure she sighed audibly. Then she made him stand at the front of the class while she lectured about the proper use of scissors. HA HA!
Lesson learned. I hope. He's at the hair cut place right now, getting it fixed. I was starting to get used to it. He had mastered the comb-over. Crack. Me. UP!!
What are the odds that Ian learned from Aidan's mistake and won't repeat it? Slim? Yah. I was afraid of that.