The squirm factor led to my first major haircutting mistake this week. As you can see, he moved. I got all the way to the trimming bit over the ears when Collin, apparently alerted to an alien abduction occurring outside, quickly turned his head jerkily to the side.
Oh well, his problem. I feel no shame at having a kid that looks like an early nineties throw back. That's what I've decided his "look" is. I think people have vainly decided that he asked for one of those shaved designs in his head, like initials of zig zags and then chickened out. That's my theory and I'm sticking to it. No way do they think that his incompetent mother cut his hair or couldn't get him to sit still. That would be impossible. Besides, if she could get him to be still, she'd have a better picture of his head, right? 
In other news, he's not bothered by looking completely foolish; in fact, he relishes it to complete abandon and refuses to believe he looks in any way ridiculous at any point in his life. He has no sense of right and wrong when dressing himself. Exhibit A. (Normally, I don't bother fixing said incidences of inside-outedness and/or backwardness as it just causes meltdowns that aren't worth my time and I figure, eh? What the hell?).
Such tomfoolery and backwardness has rubbed off on the animal kingdom of our home as well, as cats and dogs have become not only friends but bed mates. Everyone all together now: awwwww.
Oh and in case you are wondering why I didn't just cut Collin's hair all evenly to match my "mistake," it's because I didn't have a comb on the clippers when I was trimming around the ears, so I'd have had to buzz his whole head down to the nub. I just can't bear to do it. I can't. Nope. No how. If I can't run my hand through that mop and tousle his hair, I think I'd die.
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