I cried. Not like, tear, pat, pat with a tissue. I sobbed. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I had to hide my face from him so he didn't get upset. If Jeff hadn't have been there I would have pulled him out of that pink cadillac, thrown those scissors at that woman and ran through High Park, all the way home. I'm crying now writing this!
All day I would look at him and start crying. We had to cut his hair eventually. It was in his eyes and there was pizza stuck in it from the birthday party the day before told us we had to go. He was so distracted by the Dora cartoon on the TV above him, the noisy police car Jeff had and the other kids coming in and out of the salon he didn't even notice that he was getting his hair cut. We got a little bag of his hair and a certificate saying the date of his first haircut. I held myself back from crawling on the floor gathering all of his chopped hair. Only because there was another kid in the pink car by then. Jeff says it's our job to help him be a big boy, but I want him to be my little baby still.
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