To all my readers that have asked if my son really exists.
An email states,
Sure, you mention him in your about me section-even show a picture. But really, who is he? You never talk about him.
Well, I finally have a Jordon story for you.
I finally took my son to get his hair cut recently. We kept putting if off and then I couldn’t get him to go because he had better things to do apparently. But after looking at his mop every day and him getting tired of me calling him Shaggy from Scooby Doo, we went to the mall to get it done.
Ok, how boring is that, you ask?
If it had been just a simple experience of hair getting cut, I would not bore you. No, when you live my life, you know that things could not go so smoothly.
When we got there they were busy, so we sat down and waited. I noticed the hairdo magazines and began looking through them for what his hair used to look like. I found one close enough and showed my son and for some reason, he didn’t want me to show them the picture. I asked why and he rolled his eyes and said that they won’t do it right. I was sure that this was the best route to go since his hair had grown so much. Remind me to always listen to my kids.
It was finally our turn and I smiled at the girl and showed her the picture. I told her that they usually use a #2 on the sides and blend the top. (I like the length on top)
She nodded and I sat back down and picked up a magazine and got lost in my thoughts. After about 7 minutes, I realize that the buzzing of the clippers was going on way too long and peeked around the corner to see the lady using the clippers on the top of my son’s head, buzzing everything off.
I jumped up and ran to her screaming, “What are you doing?”
She smiled and says, “Oh, did you want it shorter?”
“Shorter?” I spit out, trying to fight back the tears.
I finish with, “You cut TOO much off!”
“Well, ” she replied, “You can’t do a #2 on the sides and keep any length on the top.”
“Huh?” I look at her confused. I continued, “Apparently, you need to tell every freakin other hairdresser this that has ever cut his hair since he was four, cause they obviously don’t know what they are doing.”
As my brain registered from the shock of that girl shaving my son’s hair all off instead of taking the time to cut it. I managed to blurt out as all the other customers stared as they slowly picked up their children and held them tightly.
“This isn’t even what I showed you in the book!”
She then put her weapon down and marched over to the sitting area and picked up a different book and asked if that was the book it was in.
Was she really going to try to prove me wrong?
“No,” I reply and pick up the right book.
I flipped through the pages until I find the right picture and point to the happy smiling boy on the page with the right haircut.
“THIS, ” I calmly state, “is the the cut I wanted. “See? He has hair on the top of his head-apparently they didn’t know what they were doing.”
She put the book down and started walking back to where my son was sitting.
“Well, you don’t have to pay for this,” was all she said and picked her weapon back up.
“I would hope not,” I replied, staring at the hair clippers, debating whether to jump her for them and shave off half of her hair. I decided that would embarrass my son too much, but a quick glance at him giving me a Mom, I can’t believe you are yelling at her in front of all these people look, I figured, Why not? So, I killed her-not really.
I took a deep breath and walked over to the door to save the girl from a brutal death.
After buzzing a few more hairs off my poor child’s hair, she brushed him off and walked over to the counter. I walked up to retrieve my son from her, who by now got a look in the mirror and had the same I want to kill her look on his face.
The next thing that she said to me about made my mouth drop to the floor.
“Here is one of our buy 9 haircuts and get your 10th free card.”
I wanted to say, “Do you really think I would bring my son back here or anyone to let you totally ignore my wishes and give them whatever damn haircut you feel like without asking me?”
I just looked at her, blinked and said, “No, thanks.”
We turned to leave and she stops us and hands us the free gift you get on Tuesdays.
I guess that was her way of saying sorry, because I didn’t hear it come out of her mouth once.
We did have some good outcome to this nightmare-
My son got a new hat with the money we saved from the haircut.