What I'm going to tell you about is not unique. It may even be routine for some. But I'm writing this down, anyway, because maybe my son will read it someday and think about apologizing. I also thought you might get a laugh out of it ... Someone should, anyway!
Today, at almost 19 months, Blake had his first real temper tantrum.
He is in need of a haircut -- his third -- so after a perfectly normal morning playing at the pool, we went to Degra's Barber Shop, where a friend had told us they charge $6 for a kids haircut.
So far, we have paid $25 for a good haircut and $16 for an OK haircut. Both times, Blake cried and screamed like each hair trimmed was bleeding. So I figured $6 was a much better price for what was likely going to be a real ordeal.
We parked in one of Degra's two parking spaces and went inside. Turns out, they charge $18, and suddenly Blake's hair didn't look so bad to me. Plus, I had seen a sign on a place down the street that said Kids Cuts $11. I told the woman that $18 was a little steep for us today, and thank you, we'd look someplace else.
Blake had other things in mind.
He wouldn't sit back in his car seat. The tears came instantly. The screams were ungodly. He arched his back. He tensed all his muscles. He locked his knees. His arms wrapped around my neck in a stranglehold.
I stood him on the ground. He grabbed my hand and ran back to the door of the barber shop, which was open to let in a nice breeze.
I explained that we would go somewhere else to get his hair cut and picked him up to go back to the car. The scene was the same, only it escalated.
I got him out of the car again. Again, he walked back to the door. I considered plunking down the $18, but at this point figured a haircut could turn dangerous.
We repeated this back-and-forth, tears streaming, screams waking the dead, for 45 minutes. At times, I held him, sitting on the bumper of the car, and he seemed to calm down. Then I would try to put him in his seat and it would start over.
I'm sure the woman inside the barber shop was thinking that $18 was not nearly enough for a little boys haircut.
Eventually, I was able to get his arms in the straps of his car seat. I loosened the crotch attachment to accommodate his stiff, straight body, and got it fastened. Then I pulled it tight, which essentially forced Blake to bend and sit back.
We drove home, the screaming, sobbing and hyperventilating continuing.
I took him inside and we sat in his rocking chair. He pointed to a book. We read it, and he feel asleep, without his lunch. He's still sleeping now.
The book he picked? "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day." I'm not kidding.
And, yes, I know, some days are like this.
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