Oh, the things we do to our children when they cannot protest...or the protests are manageable. While our Li'l G has yet to have a hair on her head meet the shears, Baby J was well overdue for a first cut.
I had trimmed his bangs a while back, but recently he was starting to look like a member of a first wave British Invasion boy band. That's how boy-locks met mama-shears.
I wish I could say it was easy peasy lemon squeezy, but well, the boy likes to boogie and the novelty of the spray bottle wore off after I grabbed onto the hair to cut with my giant scissors. Because why would I have barber's scissors?
Given the squirming, I think the team effort (mama barely refrains from swearing whilst daddy distracts the boy) produced fairly decent results. Let's hope his hair grows as the same rate as his ability to sit still. Seriously.