Add to it his utter hatred of getting a haircut, and you can see why I've been dreading dealing with taking that kid to get an official haircut. That is, instead of the previous "pin his head between my knees and shave off anything and everything that comes in contact with the clippers while I'm trying to hold all of his arms and legs out of the way" mom hairdos. If he knew any curse words, I'm pretty sure he'd be flinging them sailor-style during the entire event--at least when he wasn't trying to bite my arm when it came anywhere near his mouth.
But I couldn't ignore his crazy rat-tail growing down his neck and the hair that basically just stood straight up everywhere else since I've been trying to let it grow out a bit. I talked it up all morning about how he was going get his hair cut like a big boy, how he was going to sit still like a statue, and how she'd give him candy. Aidan was VERY excited about it, even though he doesn't have enough hair to justify paying for one yet (Jeremy's genes in action) and he actually likes them--the clippers "tickle" him. From his psychotic screaming and thrashing, I'm pretty sure Avery doesn't think they tickle. But after all the brainwashing, I asked Avery if he would go do it and he says, "OK. Yeah. Hair cut. She has candy?" But I was still nervous, partly because they had gotten up really early and could lose it at any moment. I'm all for frequent public humiliation, I mean--come on, I have to take the boys everywhere with me--but this had the potential to be really, really bad.
We got there and he was still agreeable. He even got to watch a kid go before him and he was studying the process fairly intently. I was continually brainwashing--"Wow. You're going to be so brave. And sit still. And NOT cry or scream. And oh my, look, she has a big bucket of candy. Your hair's going to look so cool! Like a basketball player!" (We can pretty much convince him to do most things if we tell him that he either looks like a basketball player doing it or that basketball players everywhere do the thing we're trying to get him to do.)
So when it's his turn, he gets a little nervous and says, "No, no want to." But all she had to do was wiggle the bucket, and he was up on her booster sit practically pinning on his own apron. I was so relieved.
The little stinker sat there so still as long as every 10 seconds I popped a smartie into his mouth. He got to turn on and off all the different types of clippers she used. She was a very funny Asian lady--she kept telling me how he had "sticky out parts" and she had to blend them really well. "It really hard to do only one person," she kept telling me. I think I correctly interpreted that to mean, "This haircut you gave him is really jacked up. Stop trying to cut it yourself and shell out the $9 to let a professional." If only she knew that it wasn't the money--I was afraid he'd act like he does at home, which is basically like a rabid squirrel getting his toenails ripped off one by one and then having his feet dipped in lemon juice.
Good little Aidan just sat in a little school desk waiting for his turn (that wasn't going to come), munching on his little pack of candy and talking to Avery every now and then. "See Avery! It not that bad!"
Avery got his gum reward when we finally got loaded back into the car. I was trying everything to make sure he remembered how fun the whole experience was so that next month when his fro has returned, he won't need an elephant tranquilizer to go back.
Oh, and the public humiliation followed shortly thereafter at Bed Bath and Beyond when I wouldn't let them have suckers at the checkout that were bigger than their heads. Avery gave himself whiplash during his tantrum and then whacked his head on the back of the metal cart seat. I feel like writing that company a letter and telling them that due to their ridiculously overpriced 200-item candy display at the front of the store, I can NO LONGER shop there. EVER.