You're Fired!

Two words. No one likes to hear them. No one wants to hear them. Donald Trump has made them famous. Yesterday, those words were directed to me.

It all involved a set of hair clipppers and my husband's hair. Let me set the stage for you...one of my various "jobs" includes trimming up the boys hair in our house. David got a set of trimmers and showed me how to cut his and Jonathan's hair. Now, it's taken me some practice to get it figured out, but I do an okay job of hair cutting. Until yesterday.

I was peacefully sitting on the couch, reading the Sunday paper when I was called into the salon (some may call that our bathroom). On the way there, I got a little lightheaded. As a side note, I'm not sure why this happens, but it does on semi-regular occassions when I have sinus issues going on. Not an excuse, just setting the stage. As I was holding onto the doorframe to prevent myself from blacking out, the client asked what I needed. When you give a haircut, you need clippers, the appropriate guards, scissors, comb, etc. He handed me the clippers and a guard along with the scissors and comb. How many hands do I have?? I put the scissors and comb in my pocket and didn't pay close attention to which guard it was but did notice a cute little red-headed girl that was running around in the salon. He proceeded to lean over the trash can (mind you, high quality salon here!) to trim his beard and I turned the clippers on and headed for the top of his head. I hear the hair being cut and his voice shouting "NO!!". Meanwhile, picture a cute 21 month old running out of the salon screaming because her Daddy was not happy.

So, the client turns to me and says, "what were you thinking?!?" and I, of course, said, "I wasn't!" I begin to apologize profusely, but can't help but laugh at the same time. Laughter seems to make all bad things seem not quite so bad. And then he said it. Those two words. "YOU'RE FIRED!" The tears began to fall. Tears sometimes help those bad things not seem so bad. He took the clippers and gave himself a buzz cut. I tried to tell him it wasn't so bad and offer suggestions, such as "perhaps it doesn't look quite as nice with the beard." His response was along the lines of "I'm in the Army now." I also offered some other positive thoughts: he'd save on using less shampoo and time to wash it, it would take less time to fix his hair in the mornings, he could wear a hat and not get hat-hair...the possibilities were endless!

So, I headed into the other room to give the children a warning that Daddy got a haircut that's a little different than normal. They were not to laugh, but to tell Daddy that it looks nice. Leave it to kids to have just the right words. Jonathan went into the bathroom, I mean salon, and said, "Daddy, you look different and nice." Just what I'd told him to say....

David proceeded to go back to his gotee with his new haircut. It really doesn't look bad. I still have to take a second look, but it's growing on both of us...and anyway, it's just hair. It will grow back. I just have to keep reminding him of that...

I did later show him a picture from the paper, which I did get to go back and finish reading, of all the reserve fellas who were honored at Lucas Oil Stadium for their service in Iraq. They looked nice in their hair cuts. He also seems to think he has a pointy head, yet nearly every other time I've given him a haircut, he askes if it's time to shave it all -- it is slowly thinning on top.

As we were going to bed, I'd told him I was composing this post in my head. He did say that I was re-hired, but he was going to give me grief about this -- probably for the rest of my life! Sorta like the granny bike and the Star Wars figures stories from his childhood that he still gives his parents grief over...but at least, he can laugh about those stories now. I guess he'll eventually laugh about the haircut story and have a good story for the grandkids...

By the way, I don't think I'll be able to get a picture of him anytime soon.