Shorn

Graham's hair was definitely on the shaggy side (see Madeline photo), but he wanted it to be long & was trying to grow it out. Minnesota winter weather always takes a toll on our Texas-acclimated hair (making it flat, lifeless and static-y), and Graham was looking odd (not just because of the Madeline costume). Annie's hair was no different - instead of bouncing and waving, it just sat on her head. And my hair wasn't cooperating either. I must say this for the Texas humidity: It makes the scrunch-n-go hairstyle possible for me, saving both time and reputation.

Finally after much coaxing (it seriously requires the skills of a U.N. diplomat with him), I talked Graham into letting me do a little trim with Grandpa's clippers before we took the Hill family pictures.

I got the clippers ready & looked for guards. Well, Grandpa's clipper box didn't have any guards in it but the device itself had a little slide button that moved from 1-5; I watched closely and the blades did move up or down, correspondingly. I just figured that since Grandpa's clippers seemed much nicer than ours - it was made of metal, for example, while ours is mostly plastic - it must have built-in guards.

I don't think clippers actually come with built-in guards.

On my first pass, I buzzed off a patch of hair all the way to Graham's scalp. Unfortunately it was right above his ear ... very, very visible. I tried to fix it, though my limited hair-cutting skills (Kyle would say non-existent, having been on the receiving end of one of these cuts early in our relationship) meant I didn't actually know what I was doing.

Graham was getting hysterical, of course, and kept insisting, "It looks really good!" If any of you have ever seen Graham get hysterical, then you know the towel was slipping, hair was flying and he was sobbing.

"It" was a combo mullet-buzz with one odd forelock hanging forlornly above the patch of bare skin.

"Let's fix it while we can," said Grandma Susan, since we had a Christmas party to attend in a few hours. At the mall we found a walk-in salon & Graham took his seat with the stylist. I had to shame-facedly explain how his hair came to look so bizarre.

I wish I had a picture of the stylist's face. She gave me a look of sorrow, pity, disapproval and tsk-tsk-y-ness (don't you love the word construction here on the lowdown? - that's what hyphens are for, I say!) that clearly conveyed: "You have no business meddling where you don't belong."

She said, "It will probably have to go short."

Uh, yes, I figured that since bare scalp is showing through.

In the end, I was pleased with her work. It made Graham look more mature, more ready for military school should he choose to enroll.

(his facial expression is not indicative of actual hair-cut satisfaction - Graham was pleased with the way it turned out)