The Son got his first haircut last month. I never knew this was a big deal until I made a crucial mistake: I said this out loud. The Wife informed me that everything in a kid's life that is a first is a big deal. I must be getting smarter in my old age because I didn't ask if the first time passing gas or burping was to be celebrated.
I do remember the first time I heard him let one go, because I looked at him wide-eyed. I smiled, so did he and we laughed about it for a good two-three minutes that will go down as one of my favorite memories in life. So I guess they are a big deal. And very, very smelly.
On to the haircut. The place we chose for this important event was on the outside of a mall, along with everything now. Remember when stuff used to be in the mall? I would tell you what's inside now, but I haven't been in one in years. Judging by what used to go on in there, I'm betting a bunch of senior citizens have turned it into a carpeted track where the people working at Spenser's hand out prune juice in old hollowed-out whoopie cushions.
I imagined that the haircut person (I refuse to call them a stylist because they are cutting a toddler's hair... toddlers need a stylist like they need a bank account. Oh wait...) to be a bubbly, bouncy, perky girl that belonged in the Small World ride at Disney. All pony tails, ribbons, and smiles. What we got was a tad bit different. Our haircut person was a bubbly, bouncy, perky man that belonged in the Small World ride at Disney. His name was Luis, which he told me was pronounced "Looooo-EEEEEssss". His arms were bulging with veins big enough to drive a Hot Wheel through and his shirt was painted onto his chest. Then he picked up a bubble blowing device and started to shower my son's head making him squeal with laughter. Looo-EEEss that is; oh, my son laughed, but nothing like Looo-EEEss. I liked him.
He started to wet down my son's head and combed his hair into a mohawk. Why do haircut people do this? You'd think someone would be creative enough to do something different with wet hair other than a mohawk. I can't think of anything, but hey, I don't cut hair for a living. When Looo-EEEss was about to start cutting, he gave the bubble-blowing duties to my wife. And this started maybe the funniest forty-five seconds of my life. The Wife blew on the bubbles, but nothing came out. Spittle rained down on my son's face as he looked on in horrified confusion. I stared. Looo-eeess, to his neverending credit, broke the stunned silence by saying, "Ok, let's take the bubbles away from Mommy and give her something less complicated." I loved Looo-EEEss.
The Son was perfect during his hair cut. He no longer has a toddler mullet, which I am grateful for, and looks like a little boy. And I now have a first that I will remember forever. Thanks to Looo-EEEss and a bubble machine.