Just last week we had our own haircutting issue. My nine year old was a-nagging. (Cut my hair, Mom. Cut. My. Hair. Mom. Cutmyhairmom. OK already.) The clippers were in dad’s room. Dad was asleep. So the monkey got me the scissors. And to just make him stop, fully planning on fixing it in a few minutes when his dad got up, I began cutting concentric circles into his hair. We were both laughing. Soon dad was up and we got the clippers. As I flipped them on, there was a flash and a pop and it was over. No more clippers. I had a smokey black spot on my hand and my son looked like he had crop circles on his head. To fix it, I had to shave him nearly bald with his dad’s electric razor trimmy thing. He would not let me take his picture for my blog, but this aerial photo gives you a good idea of what it looked like. Poor, poor L-boy. I'm glad he still loves me.
