My sweet little sugarman Harrison decided to challenge me this morning and said he wanted a hair cut. He hasn't had a "real" haircut in well over a year. I, of course I was completely confident that he must be bluffing, I called him out and said "ok. Let's go see Daddy's barber."
I thought for sure he would see the shop, the chair and all the clippers and tell me "Nah. I don't want a haircut. I was just kidding mom." (he's done this in the past.) But the swede in him took over today and he was determined to get his hair cut. He climbed right up in the chair and told Mr. Pete the barber,
"I want my hair spiky, like my daddy."
Harrison and Mr. Pete the barber
Mr. Pete and Harrison discussing how the clippers work.
After one good swipe down the middle with the clippers. 
Even more gone.
Mullet stage.
Cleaning up the back.
Look at all that hair!
Catching a few strands that got missed.
A quick vacuum aferward. 
A bald Harrison with his slushy coupon from Mr. Pete for being such a big boy.
Gee, thanks Mr. Pete.
He is quite pleased with himself. I will probably quietly cry myself to sleep tonight in utter horror that his little boy hair is all gone. I'm apparantly not accepting my babies growing up all that maturely. Tomorrow he will probably tell me he's ready to go off to college.
He is quite pleased with himself. I will probably quietly cry myself to sleep tonight in utter horror that his little boy hair is all gone. I'm apparantly not accepting my babies growing up all that maturely. Tomorrow he will probably tell me he's ready to go off to college.
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