I’ve made a pig’s ear of Tom’s hair.
“Someone hurt my feelings today,” he said, during nit check last night.
“What did he say?”
“He said I look like a girl.”
Here we go again.
“Do you want short hair? It really is up to you.”
“No, I like it being curly. Anyway, Verity* stuck up for me.”
Verity was elected the female Class Rep last Friday, so I reckon she’s a pretty good diplomat.
“What did she say?”
“She whispered at me. She said ‘Don’t worry, but I think it might be because your hair is a tiny bit long.'”
It has been looking quite voluminous lately, especially round the ears. I decided that a quick trim wouldn’t go amiss, just to thin it about a bit. Last time I took him to the barber, he scalped him and when I took him to a hairdresser, they charged fifteen quid. I snipped a bit around his ears and his fringe, asked him to turn around, thought it looked a bit wonky and then chopped off a bit more, but then that was too much so I had to lop of a bit more off the other side to even it out. It was a bit like the time I decided to shorten a perfectly good dress because it felt frumpy. In fact, I think I used the same pair of massive red scissors. The taxi was on its way and I ended up having to go home early after catching sight of myself in a shop window and realising that I was wearing what was essentially a top. I was gutted, but I had only ruined a dress and a night out. This was my son’s hair.
“Oh look, they look like curly Cs!” Tom said, pointing at the floor.
There on the bathroom lino were hundreds of golden curls.
I wanted to cry.
“How does it look?” said Tom.
“I think I’ve cut too much off.”
“Mum! I said I didn’t want it short.”
“It’s still long. At the back.”
I plonked him in front of the mirror in my room and blow-dried it, pulling down the stubby strands at the front to try to lengthen them.
“It looks OK!” he smiled at his reflection and turned his head from side to side.
You don’t know what a mullet is, I thought.
When I picked him up from school today, it did look really mullety. He had a short, blunt fringe that went round to his ears and then loads of blonde curls cascading past his collar at the back.
There were even more curly Cs on the bathroom floor this evening and it still doesn’t look great. It’s not the end of the world, obviously, but I do feel like an idiot.
Next time I’ll bring in the professionals.
*All names have been changed (I am pretty sure there is no one called Horatio or Verity in Tom’s class.)