Dusk was settling over the backyard. From our perch on the back deck, nestled among the fifty plus year old pine, we had a clear view of "our boy". His boundless energy haulted, fussing with his hair in a corner of the yard, a worried and annoyed expression on his face, and then the call out "Mama????"
Our son. Rooster is his nickname because since even before his birth six years ago, he has had me up with the sun or even before its rise. Yet Rooster's mannerisms are much more akin to a 1 year old lab. A body longer than he has been able to get used to, prone to knocking things over. Bounding into my lap without a sense of just how big he is and how small I am becoming. Unable to pass a large stick without picking it up. An endless ball of energy, until the backyard burs got on his shirt and in his hair. That stopped him in his tracks and sent him whimpering into my arms. Our daughter, who also was frolicking in the backyard, was bur free. Siblings, yet so different.
My husband and I attempted to pull out the burs. Oh so many, and it became clear, it was haircut time. I had been thinking that I'd take him to a salon for a proper cut in preparation for kindergarten. Change of plan, scissors were needed to get out the burs. Home hair cut time it was.
We've been doing this for a few years now. The key to our happiness with home cuts does not lie in technique or tools. No, it is low expectations. I have no allusion that he'll emerge with the same cut as though we were at a salon. I've been trained to write wills and administer probate, not cut hair. But, I can snip and trim and have a modestly respectable cut. Give up a desire for a cover photo child, cut their hair, and you'll save money and time. With those savings, we enjoyed a lazy summer night in the backyard. That is the upside of a frugal life.