At the Barbers

2 May

11pm

I was a proud mummy, watching Rafy have his first hair cut at the local Barber's this morning. 9 months ago, he would never have sat still like this. He certainly has ants in his pants when I try to cut his hair; I'm limited to 6 minutes. I couldn't believe he was in that chair for about half an hour when the hairdresser went over and over with her razor. Where did that grown up boy come from?

The woman was obviously bored of her job but she did take a lot of care and was so thorough. I wanted to say to her that it was ok, he's only 3 and it grows like lightning, so it won't last!

It's a palace of a Barber's. They do women's hair as well and are always busy, but I caught them at a great time with no queue and lots of space to park me and the buggy.

"Do you like it Rafy?" I asked. He replied, "It's tickly".

My brave boy, sitting through what might be deemed a session of torture! I fought back a lump in my throat, proud as punch.

Another bit of entertainment for the boys, without the usual trauma of having to painstakingly pick hairs out of everything and everywhere on him. Not to mention the meltdown in the shower when the hairs don't come off without a fight! I'm all for saving pennies and the bill of £9 was a surprise but today it seemed worth it for the drama saved at home. Now to somehow occupy them for the remaining ten hours of the day until they go to sleep.

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