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The wee driver of the shiny teal convertible turns to me and smiles as if to say, “This is the life, isn’t it?” With one hand casually gripping the wheel and the other hand tasked with holding a grape lollipop at the ready, my three-year-old J is the picture of a carefree existence. I smile back, but he has already shifted his attention elsewhere. On a TV just in front of him, a friendly blue dog and his friendly pal Joe have just encountered a moon fairy. “It’s Blue’s Clue’s, Mom! ” chirps J, through sticky lips stained purple, making him look as if he really could be one of Blue’s friends. Somewhere just outside his consciousness, a stranger is circling his head like a gnat, snipping away at his hair with scissors, but J hardly notices. J is having a blast.
It’s haircut day for my shaggy haired twin boys. We’d been trying out different salons with mixed success. Today, we’re at a salon which specializes in children’s cuts. While I’ve yet to find the perfect hair salon for my boys (a stylist here cuts hair with her cell phone glued to her ear which is so annoying), it meets a couple of big needs: convenience and seat belts at every station. This salon’s gimmick is lollipops (the mini kind), which they award to their pint-sized customers at the end of the session or, in our case, whenever it’s deemed necessary. They also have mini-vehicles for the kids to sit in. There’s a TV and a loft full of toys.
While J is sitting patiently during his haircut, his twin brother L is poking around the loft, fingering toys and pretending to be occupied. He wants to be anywhere but here. The stylist calls his name, once, twice… I see L slink back towards the back of the loft, resisting. “No, Mom, I’m doing something!” “But there’s a red lollipop waiting for you, ” I say, mentioning his favorite color. “NOOOOOO, I don’t want to get my hair cut. I don’t NEED to get my hair cut!!” he declares, backing away, tears starting to flow. I pick him up, carry him down the steep stairs and plunk him into a cute little car, buckling him in quickly. At this point, we are doing far better than we did a couple of visits ago, when one of L’s flailing legs managed to kick the poor stylist smack on the NOSE. (We then went to another salon for a few months after that incident, keeping a low profile.)
“Why don’t you watch Blue’s Clue’s?” I suggest, giving L his red lollipop, hoping to cinch the deal. For a while, the combo of a sugary treat and a beloved TV show, seems to settle him somewhat. But then, oh - but THEN. Snippets of hair start raining down, coating the lollipop and causing my boy to gag. Soon, he’s simultaneously crunching and gagging on his hairy lollipop (gross!!). Crunch. Gag. Crunch. Gag. I take away the lollipop and attempt to remove the offending pieces from his mouth. The gagging continues. “He’s gonna hurl!” (L was my vomit boy for 1.5 years so I know the signs.) As the countdown to spewtime begins, I dash outside to my car which is parked just 10 feet away and look for that plastic cup I think I remember seeing somewhere in there. I grab the cup, sprint back to L and miraculously manage to catch all the vomit. Whew, that was close. L is a distraught mixture of snot, tears, vomit and hair trimmings and so, by proximity, am I. The composed stylist quickly finishes up and I swoop in to remove my traumatized boy. Somehow, his super speedy haircut is complete and even looks great. Meanwhile, his brother J is down to the final few snips of his leisurely haircut and he is all sunshine and happiness, despite having had to change out his hairy lollipop a couple of times as well.
As we exit, I grab a handful of lollipops, clean up my boys, and leave a very big tip. I give each boy one final lollipop, tucking the rest away in the glove compartment for future bribes. It always amazes me how very different my two boys have always been. One acts as if his visits to the doctor (prizes!), dentist (headphones! a robotic chair!) and hair salon (lollipops!) are like trips he’s won on a game show. The other acts as if these trips were bestowed upon him by a cruel fate. But they are my boys, this combo of dispositions and somehow, it feels right. But furry lollipops? Ewwww. That’s one combo I can definitely do without.
Posted by Akemi B (January 10, 2008)
This entry is cross-posted on Silicon Valley Moms Blog.
