A Battle of Epic Proportions

Friday, after Ben woke up with yet another disastrous head of hair, I decided it was time to take drastic measures against permanent bedhead. For crying out loud, Patrick was six months old when he got his first haircut at a barber shop; here Ben is--fifteen months old this week--and he has yet to have more than a few stray hairs snipped off now and then. Since Ben is notoriously bad about haircuts, I decided to spare myself the headache of taking him to the barber shop and tackled the job myself. And oh what a job it was! It was not unlike trying to cut a wild grizzly bear's hair, with much wailing and gnashing of teeth. The battled continued for over an hour, tensions ran high, tempers flared, but alas I forced him into a quiet submission, with him bending over the front of his high-chair and moaning a repeating, babbling mantra. This worked out well for the both of us, since it served to calm his weary soul, and I still had the back to cut, which is the hardest part when he's thrashing around. In the end, I was rather pleased with the job that I did, and learned a lot doing it. I only remembered after I cut the front that he has a funny hairline and will always have to have bangs, but they'll grow back in a month or so, and then I'll remember not to trim the top so close anymore. Either way, I've given him a nice, short, even haircut--rather than the moppy mess he was sporting before--which will grow back nicely and allow me to keep tabs on it from now on. Without further ado, I present to you, little Ben, all shaven and shorn:

Since I was on a roll, I decided to trim up Patrick's hair, too. So I sat him down after lunch and went to work. I looked up a few minutes later to see Ben walking from one side of the kitchen to the other, no hands! Of course I messed up and made a big deal over it, causing him to realize what he was doing and drop to his knees immediately. He has yet to repeat this move, but hey, at least he's trying it out.