It was once again time for a haircut. Adam's little trim from before just wasn't good enough, and the little fly-aways around his ears were about to make him fly away. So it was time for Daddy's clippers to take care of the job.
Adam was, to say the least, not amused.
He ended up gripping me for dear life while Tim very carefully wielded the scissors, trying not to put out my eyes in the process. Even watching Bob the Builder didn't help the distress.
Nor did being finished.
Afterward, he got cuddled on my lap, sans hair-covered clothes, for a little while, and then he was okay to watch a little TV while Mark got his hair cut. Mark, of course, is an old hand.
But I do have the "after" evidence to prove that this time, yes, there was a haircut, and it was not all wonky.
At church on Sunday, one of Mark's friends said, "Mark! I almost didn't recognize you! You got a haircut!"
It wasn't that much of a haircut!
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