I HATE taking Cullen to get a haircut. First, it's a twenty minute drive into town. Then there's the wait. And lastly, he's not the best client ever. I've had to hold him in my lap the last two times (the first time I documented here; it was horribly traumatic. I'd hoped he'd blocked it out, but apparently not.) which means I become covered in tiny bits of hair, and some is usually caught in the back of my throat for the rest of the day.
I don't know why I never thought of it before, but there's a barber shop next door to the convenience store a few blocks from here. So I took Cullen there yesterday, but first, I stopped in the convenience store to buy the one thing he BEGS for every time we leave the house: a slushy.
The whole event was soooooo much fun. Which is why there are no pictures of him actually getting the haircut. I had to hold him the entire time (again) and he was a teary, snotty, slobbery, hair-covered mess long before she was finished. And so was his slushy. Yummy.
She told him he was handsome, and I told him to say thank you. So between wails, he pitifully whimpered, "Say tank ooo." At least he was polite.
She would tell him she was almost done and he was going to have to go show his daddy, and Cullen would cry, "Okaaaaaaaay." And then, "Most done... most dooooooooone." It was hilarious. Or it would have been if I hadn't been covered, head to toe (and in my mouth) with his hair.
Apparently, the extra hair was directly linked to his self-control. Like Samson, once the hair was gone, so was his (what little he had) self-control. He was W.I.L.D. all afternoon. I took this video of him, and he did this two times before I even got the video camera out. He was WOUND. UP. He would run as far away from me as he could get, only to turn around and run full speed at me until he slammed into me laughing maniacally. OVER. AND OVER. AND OVER. But he's so stinking cute I just grabbed onto him and hugged and kissed him until he turned and ran away to do it again. Then he found Christian's shoes that she left in our bathroom and put them on. He was walking around saying, "It's MY shoes! It's MY shoes!" until he would kick them off as hard as he could to see how far/high they would fly.
But I have to admit, he looks pretty darn cute with his new 'do.
I feel the need to explain this video. But I can't. I have NO IDEA why he starting asking this. Or why he felt the need to repeat it 24, 972 times.