Traumatizing my child.

Well, I think I have recovered emotionally to the point where I can write about my traumatizing experience. Or, to be more exact, Babypants' traumatizing experience. It started with a haircut. A simple trim to help minimize the mullet. It ended with a panic attack.

Daddypants and I decided that the birthday girl deserved a special haircut at Snip-Its, a kids-only salon. We had heard great things about it, complete with lollipops and prizes. Perfect. What's not to like about candy and presents? Well, apparently gay men are not to like. Our stylist took "she's a little shy, it might take her a couple minutes to warm up" as "please attack my ridiculously shy child while shrieking at her." Total meltdown ensued. Screaming. Clinging. Panicking. "Mommy no mommy no!" The works. So, thank you for traumatizing my child. She is going to never let anyone near her hair again. I guess she might some day learn that gay men are a girl's best friend when it comes to hair, but until then, we'll stick to Mom's Salon.

After getting the screamer calmed down, we headed over to Claire's because Babypants was still convinced "pretty ears" where going to be much nicer than a quick trim. Who knew that a two year old would be right about this? The girls let her hold a teddy, pick out her colors, draw with the marker, and play with bracelets. Yes, she cried when they actually put the earrings in, but the pain was quickly forgotten when she caught sight of herself in the mirror. While I got care instructions and did a quick search for Disney Princess bracelets, BP pranced around the store in search of every single mirror, just so she could admire herself. She was rather pleased with herself, as was I. I might have tortured my child by getting her hair cut, but, much like the Great Cat Swap, she was easily distracted. Now I just had to find a way to tell my husband what I had done. And prepare myself to find a good divorce lawyer.

I decided that the easiest way to break it to him would be for him to see how ecstatic his daughter was about her "pretty ears" and then hope against all odds that he wouldn't murder or divorce me. A quick call to his office got us a parking lot meeting. I think his first instinct was murder, but luckily he has a little more of a level head than I do. He told BP how pretty she looked (I must admit, as a totally and completely non-biased party, that she did look absolutely adorable), exclaimed over new new Princess bracelets, and gave me the obligatory "it's fine, Jess" before sprinting back to the office. I'm sure his stress ball got quite the workout.

Haircut: semi-check. Still needs to be repaired a bit.

Ears: check. She shows everyone she meets.

Husband: check. Still coming home after work. I think.