When Bobby was small we didn't have much spare cash. (Hark at me acting like we're loaded now! We're not- we just don't care anymore!) I worked hard to save money wherever I could, making their clothes, using leftovers, walking everywhere; you get the idea.
Bobby was born with long thick hair which never fell out, as baby hair usually does, so haircuts were a must. On my tight budget, I decided a haircut in a hairdressers was an unnecessary expense and decided to cut her hair myself. I did some basic research with other mums on budgets; one of the best tips was how to cut hair so it was even on both sides. The tip was, to make sure you get your child's fringe straight, simply stick a piece of sticky tape across the child's fringe and cut it off. Sticky tape is straight, so if you follow the line of the tape the fringe will also be straight.
Right. A Good tip. Sticky tape in one hand, dressmaking scissors in the other and Bobby in the third* I set off on my haircutting mission. What I forgot to allow for was that Bobby was a wriggler. Just as I was about to stick my perfect straight line, she wriggled and ended up with sticky tape tangled in her hair. Her hair was, and is, incredibly thick, so by the time I had hacked out the sticky tape (NOT in a straight line), I still had several layers of hair underneath. I went sheepishly back to the hairdressers and pretended she had cut it herself...
* Not a typo- if you have kids you automatically get given a spare hand. It's God's way of trying to make it up to you, a bit like petrol station flowers.
When Peter was old enough for haircuts I decided to give it another go. Boys had to be easier than girls, right? Wrong. I invested in clippers, but by the time I got round to getting them out of the box Peter's hair was too long and thick to 'clipper' it without pulling.
"Never mind," thought I, "I will cut it a bit shorter, then clipper it."
Out came the dressmaking scissors again. I have to confess I got a bit scissor-happy, pretending I was a proper hairdresser. I then 'clippered', but had cut Peter's hair so unevenly that it was impossible to make his hair look good. By the time I finished, Peter looked like he had mange.
I have never made any attempt to cut Phyllis' hair; she is far too vain to even let me try. Either that, or the other two have warned her to RUN FOR THE HILLS if she ever sees me with scissors.
Today: The importance of teaching your kids to use their 'thinking voice'
Peter (really loud): Oh look, there's the man with no hair again!
At 3 or 4 that would be pretty cute, but Peter was 13 at the time. Not so cute.