There has been something I have been anticipating and dreading ever since I became a mother. This weekend it finally happened. I thought it would always be my oldest it would happen to. It wasn't.
If you remember this post, you know that I don't keep scissors down low accessible to children. And, now I don't keep Sharpies down low either. I also might add that my kitchen scissors that I so carefully store 8 feet off the floor are so dull they couldn't cut anything anyway.
The drama unfolded when I left all three children with my husband for a couple of hours. I got the phone call before I returned home. It happened. Shoot.
The Little Guy (aka Middle Child) was using school scissors at the kitchen table and suddenly got up and ran to the bathroom. My Husband claims he thought he was just taking care of business. No. He was cutting his hair. His hair had gotten pretty long and I might not have minded it so much except that it was his bangs. He scalped himself and it just can't be repaired.
I came home to find him asleep on the couch. Excuse the picture - it was a dark room and I didn't have a flash. I'll post an awake picture later if I have the heart. It is actually much worse than it appears in this picture.
The tattoo on the face may have distracted you from the hair disaster. That was another surprise for me. There will be no more Christmas pictures for him without a Santa hat on. I went ahead and put together my Christmas Card last night since I probably won't be getting any better pictures than I have.
I tried to fix his hair-do myself with no luck. He may have to get a military haircut soon.
2 days ago