Haircut...

I don't cut my kids hair. Never. Nope. Don't do it. I fear I will humiliate them so badly that they won't be able to show their face, er hair, in public for weeks. Months. The anxiety is so bad that Megan hasn't had her hair cut for over two and half years except her bangs...which I also DON'T cut. My mom does the job when we see her every month or so.

Fear, I tell ya.

It stems from a very bad teenage moment when I decided to trim my bangs and instead spent the next month walking around with what looked like a brillo pad on my head. It was that bad. Trust me.

Needless to say, we take Ben to get his hair cut about every 6 weeks.  Every time we trek to the barber, Megan asks when it is her turn to get a real hair cut and I have always put her off. Until today.

Here she is before...

She couldn't wait! That smile is one of heavy anticipation.

When the woman called her back, she quickly stood up and wandered back to her seat. She climbed up and was draped and then she didn't move a muscle the whole time the woman cut her hair. She sat very maturely looking into the mirror as the woman combed, sprayed, cut and dried. The stillness wasn't brought on by nervousness rather a girly, prim and proper manner took over. She is ALL GIRL, this one.

The end product doesn't look too much different but the experience was well worth it.

She thinks she is the prettiest 3 year-old girl on the planet.

And I agree!