Posted by: Jamie Stamm | February 18, 2009

A hairy situation

I’m dreading Saturday.

Not because it’s the end of a pay period (which, thanks to my procrastination with work, has consumed two of the past three weekends) or because I’m going to have to try to make my house look somewhat presentable for a Sunday play date (although I’m not really looking forward to cleaning, either).

No, I’m dreading Saturday because I have to take Anthony for a haircut.

I’ve been making excuses for weeks: We had too many other errands to run. We didn’t have the money. His hair really wasn’t that bad.

But his hair is that bad. In the morning, it’s sticking up in all directions, and although I can tame it with water for a little while, by the time we make the six-minute drive to preschool, it’s in complete disarray. It’s starting to grow down over his ears, and his cowlick stands up at least an inch and a half off the top of his head.

But the straw that broke the camel’s back was seeing him in a baseball cap. Yes, the hat covered the poofy mess up top, but his hair also stuck out the back, curling up like the tail of a duck. He reminded me of the floppy-haired frat boys I went to college with, who, despite their general wealth and good looks, seemed content to dress like rednecks.

That will not be my son. The frat-boy hair has got to go.

You may be wondering why I’m so reluctant to take Ant to a hairdresser. Let me share a bit of his haircut history.

My mom did Ant’s first few trims without incident, and on a trip to Pennsylvania back in April 2007, I took him for his first professional cut from Barbie, who has given first haircuts to most everyone on my dad’s side of the family going back more than 30 years (apparently, Barbie still has flashbacks to her first encounter with my sister Katie, whom she refers to as “the worst I’ve ever had”). But Anthony was sweet as could be, sitting calmly in my lap as Barbie snipped away, thanks – I’m sure – to the multiple packs of fruit snacks I fed him throughout the process.


After such a promising start, I was more than a little surprised when we took Ant for his second haircut here in North Carolina, and he flew completely off the handle. He kicked, he hit, he bit (me, not the hairdresser, thank goodness) until the woman attemping to cut his hair finally put down her scissors and said she feared she would hurt him with all his thrashing about. She charged me for half a cut, and I finished the rest at home while Jerry held Ant still.

For haircut No. 3, we tried one of those fancy-schmancy kids’ salons, where they charged us $17 for Anthony to get his hair cut while sitting in a rocket and watching “Diego.” He was fine until he saw the scissors – and then the kicking and hitting and screaming began. We walked out with an uneven haircut and a look from the hairdresser that said, “Please, don’t come again.”

And we haven’t.

That leads us to last Easter morning, when Anthony’s hair had reached the poofy, sticking-up stage that it’s in now. With spring weather looming, my mom and I decided to do what we know best, what we did to my brother throughout his childhood …


… we broke out the clippers and gave Ant his first buzz cut. He squirmed a little, but there was no crying, and I walked away without a single bite mark. I think Anthony was happy with his new look …


… and a buzz cut fits his personality quite well, whether he’s being a tough, little sports guy …


… or rocking out with the band …


… or pouting because he didn’t get his way.


We used the clippers to clean up Ant’s hair a few times over the summer and gave him his final buzz over Labor Day weekend, although we grabbed the wrong blade and ended up with a little cue ball.


His hair has been growing in since, save for a trim from my Mom over New Year’s to keep it from covering his ears. It looked pretty good in October …


… and was still OK at Christmas …


… but now … well, see for yourself below. Notice the poofiness and the way his hair is sticking out on one side. It’s awful!


So, no more excuses. On Saturday, we are definitely going to get Anthony’s hair cut.

That is, as long as no one alerts the salon that we’re coming …



  1. who looks at the hair when the face is so darn cute?

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