Yesterday, my sweet husband decided to take the day off from work. We had a few things he wanted to get done around the house. AND...(you know there was an and) he informed me a couple of weeks ago he guess he needed to take a day off to "take Matthew to get a hair cut..." Note...he hasn't had his first hair cut and will be 23 months old tomorrow. I agreed he would probably have to 'help' me get him a hair cut as I didn't want to give up his 'baby look' just yet.
Fast forward back to yesterday...after accomplishing 2 jobs here at home, we loaded up and headed into town. Our first stop...Yams. I got out with my camera in hand telling myself it was time to cut this hair. Winter cold dry weather is here and it doesn't do justice to his fine blonde baby hair...He would not sit in the airplane but would the firetruck. He started to raise his hands at me and started whining. I looked at his daddy and said "He's not happy and is not ready" to which he was determined to get it cut. I took a picture, trying to get him to smile...with no such luck. So when she started to put the cape around his neck he started fighting it. I gently picked him up and told them(daddy and hairdresser) we "didn't have to do this today...Maybe...he's not ready." OR maybe, just maybe, I'M the one not ready...
Sigh...
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