On a typical Saturday morning, my partner and I made a rookie parenting error. Wrapped in the warmth of our blankets, I felt my husband snuggle against me, and before we knew it, we were both fast asleep for two hours. We didn’t even engage in intimacy; we simply indulged in much-needed rest. As parents to three energetic boys aged 6, 4, and 2, sleep is a rare luxury.
During our slumber, our boys had free rein over the house, and they certainly made the most of it. When we finally woke, we were greeted by a disaster zone. The living room was a chaotic blend of toys, clothes, and what seemed to be a constellation of foam Christmas stickers adhered to the hardwood floor, along with a scattering of Legos that covered every surface.
However, amidst the clutter, something caught my eye. “Jake,” I asked my husband, “does it seem like little Max’s hair is thinner than usual?” Our youngest, Max, typically sported long, tousled golden locks, but now it looked like someone had taken scissors to it. Chunks were missing from the back and sides, with one area hacked so short it barely reached his scalp.
As a parent, I’ve always cherished my sons’ long hair. My middle child, Leo, had just recently transitioned from long hair to a shorter style after weeks of deliberation. I was emotionally attached to Max’s hair, which reminded me of a young prince or a fairy tale character. I affectionately called him “Golden Boy,” and I didn’t mind when strangers mistook him for a girl; his hair was simply beautiful.
Now, it was a mangled mess.
The primary suspect in this hair disaster was none other than Leo, my 4-year-old. He confessed that he wanted his brother’s hair to match his own—recently cropped to a short style. Perhaps he was just looking for an excuse to play with scissors. Strands of golden hair lay scattered among the Christmas stickers on the floor, and I felt an overwhelming urge to gather all of Leo’s favorite toys and dispose of them.
Instead, I resorted to a stern lecture, which I dubbed “The Proper Use of Scissors.” Then, I retreated to the shower for a good cry. Yes, I was emotional. I felt a strong attachment to the image of my sons as long-haired boys; it set them apart and made them unique. Maybe my high school obsession with post-grunge music influenced my ideals.
After my shower meltdown—one that my mom friends assured me was completely relatable—we faced a decision: either embrace “The Great Hair Hack,” as I called it, or seek professional help. I leaned towards the former, fearing that a hairdresser would only exacerbate the situation by evening it out further. My husband, who had no emotional investment in the length of their hair, insisted that we take Max for a trim to tidy things up.
“It’s just hair; it’ll grow back,” he said, a sentiment echoed by many in similar situations, but it was little comfort to me. I reluctantly agreed to visit Ye Old Kiddie Haircuttery, a colorful salon where kids received a prize after their haircut and were entertained by endless loops of commercials on TV.
Max was seated atop a couple of booster seats and wrapped in a vibrant cape. The stylist asked the dreaded question: “So, do you want me to just even it out?”
“No!” I blurted, cutting my husband off. “Please, preserve as much length as possible while keeping it socially acceptable.”
As she started cutting, she frequently checked in with me, saying, “I’ve never seen such an adventurous brother haircut before.” I could only point to Leo and say, “He’s the mastermind behind this.” Leo grinned, clearly proud of his handiwork.
In the end, Max sported a modified bowl cut, slightly longer in the front and reminiscent of pop stars. Everyone complimented his new look, and he got a prize to boot. While I put on a brave face, deep down, I longed for his long hair to return.
Months later, it’s finally growing back to its former glory, and I feel grateful that the situation wasn’t worse than just a sibling’s haircut. And yes, hair does grow back. However, the guilt of dozing off on a Saturday morning still lingers.
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Summary:
In a relatable tale of parenting mishaps, Dr. Samantha Greene recounts a Saturday morning where she and her husband fell asleep, only to awaken to their three boys creating chaos in the house. The highlight of the morning was discovering that their youngest son, Max, had been given a disastrous haircut by his older brother, Leo. After an emotional rollercoaster and a reluctant trip to a children’s hair salon, Max emerged with a new hairstyle that, while not what his parents envisioned, ultimately became a cherished memory. The story humorously illustrates the challenges of parenting and the unexpected scenarios that come with it.