Sunday, November 15, 2009

The Butcher

We’ve been slowly but surely preparing for the arrival of Bruce. You know, nailing up plywood over the windows, surrounding our house with sandbags, stockpiling Pinot Noir. The usual.

Last weekend, we decided everyone in the house needed a haircut. We didn’t want to look like the Manson Family six months from now. So Diana headed off to her fancy salon, I went to my $13 haircut chain and then I took Elijah to his kids haircut joint.

After countless commercials showing kids crying while getting their hair cut, I was a little nervous. But Eli was happily chirping in his car seat, so I was already ahead of the game.

We arrived at the shopping plaza and found the Kid Cuttery. I was instantly impressed. Each station had a boat or a Humvee or an airplane for the kid to sit in. Plus, there were TVs everywhere playing Elmo or Disney’s “Sexually Charged Teens.”

We had a few minutes before Yolanda, Eli’s hair cutter, was ready. So we explored the salon. I started to notice that everything had a thin layer of baby goo mixed with tiny hairs. My skin started to crawl. We had turned away from Evanston’s overrun H1N1 inoculation line earlier in the day. I could almost see the tiny, fuzzy green germs waiting for a chance to hitch a ride home with us. I grabbed Eli and hissed, “Stay away from us,” loudly enough to get the attention of the owner.

Finally, Yolanda was ready. Eli climbed into her pick up truck chair and she invited us to pick a DVD from the shelf for Eli to watch. I grabbed an Elmo movie, which was covered in hair, and held it by my fingertips.

While Eli was entranced by the skipping, stuttering movie, Yolanda asked what we wanted.

“His mother wants him to have a ‘surfer’ look. But I’m thinking something a bit more ‘Mayberry.’ High and tight.”

Yolanda looked at me concerned. “You should do what your wife says.”

I said, “Hey. I’m the one paying double what I spent on my own haircut. Get to work.”

Yolanda finished up and spun him around for my review.

“The bangs are too long. Hit him again.”

Yolanda said, “Your wife is going to make you sleep in the doghouse.”

“Hit him.”

After she chopped him, I realized I may have been a little hasty. He now looks like a little Dutch Boy mixed with Jim Carrey’s character from “Dumb and Dumber.”

Diana forgave me. But she’ll be shaving my head this afternoon as retaliation.

1 comment:

cheeky said...

i say next time keep the bangs high and let the rest grow out like little lord fauntleroy