The inevitable has happened. Zane cut his own hair. He waited almost 6 years, but the day has come.
I was in here writing and he was in the living room watching cartoons. Or so I mistakenly thought. He bounced in and stopped at the edge of my desk and said, “Mommy, I love you.”
I looked over and said, “I love you too. Whatcha doin?”
“Nothing,” he said as he was messing with his face.
“What’s wrong with your face? Why is there hair all over it?”
“Because I cut my hair mommy.”
“You cut your hair?!”
“Yeah mommy, I used my safety scissors, you know, the ones you bought me that my whole 4 fingers fit in!”
“You used safety scissors?!”
“Yeah mommy, remember the ones you bought me?”
I tried so hard to stifle my laugh. I bowed my head and giggled under my breath and hoped he didn’t see it.
“Nothing honey, but please don’t cut your own hair, ok? Let mommy or daddy help.”
“Zane, where were you when you cut your hair?”
“In the living room.”
“Didn’t you look in a mirror?”
“Nope, I didn’t need one, see?” He said as he ran his hand through the top of his hair.