The boys got haircuts today. Much needed and long overdue. They were a little on the shaggy side... growing toward helmets.
Tucker knows the drill, so he gets to sit in his own chair, with his own cape.
Tyler is still new at it, and he's a little too squirmy for independence. So I sit in the swivel chair with a cape of my own, and he sits on my lap, draped with a cape of his own. The hairdresser guides me to turn his body one way or another, he squirms and argues until I offer the occasional promise of a lollipop. Together, we get the job done.
Meanwhile, Tuck is quite the picture of confidence on the other side of the salon.
I heard him chatting away with his personal hairdresser, and I knew she had no idea what he was saying. She was doing the typical courtesy response, "Oh, mm-hmmm. Sure, sweetheart." (I know that one. It doesn't bother me. I do it, too.)
But Tucker wanted to be understood. Suddenly, he shouted, "Mommy! I'm so handsome!"
People all over the room stifled their laughter. I couldn't blame them... it was pretty adorable. But I couldn't laugh. He meant it.
"You sure are, Tuck. Very handsome. I love the new 'do."
At least he's confident.