Maybe I was lucky. Maybe normal. But out of my six boys I only had two cut their own hair. Danny decided to do it when he was 6. Six. I figured at that age he new better but apparently he didn't want bangs. A buzz later and he looked fine. Taylor was a little more age appropriate at two and a half. Another short boys cut from the barber and viola all better.
Yesterday we found a disaster in the bathroom . A container of "eyebrow" wax had flipped over and spilled all over the bottom of the cabinet. This is not an easy mess to clean up. But after a lot of heating, scraping and wiping up the sticky goo, it was clean. This gave me the much needed opportunity to sort out this particular cabinet. I had already been using small baskets to organize so I asked Taylor to print out a couple of labels to make it more manageable. (Like that will really work - Not - but it looks nice). I needed to cut down one of the labels so rather than get up from my awkward position I yelled down the hall for someone to bring me the scissors.
Ellie walked slowly down the hallway to bring them to me. I was in the middle of rearranging so I didn't look up from my "face in the cabinet" position. Then I heard it. That dreadful snip. She had cut something. And then it happened. Hair fell down into my crisscrossed legs. My hair. Not her hair. Mine. I let out a slight squeal. Danny and Ashley quickly came down. "Oh no! Did she cut her hair?!" Still to afraid to look in the mirror, I screeched, " No! She cut mine!" "Oh, okay. We thought she cut hers. It's okay Mom, you can't tell. Come on Ellie, let's leave Nana alone." I got up and looked in the mirror, ran my fingers through my hair that I have been trying to grow out for a year and gathered up all the strays lying about. Fortunately I couldn't find the snip. I did get my hair trimmed the next day. My hairdressers response - "Oh yeah. (giggle giggle) I see it. Don't worry. I can blend it."
Whew. This could have been bad.