Baby's First Haircut

Make that, Toddler's First Haircut.

It's been a long road, this hair growing business. After over two years we finally decided that Esmé was starting to look like Patrick Kane and it was time for a haircut.

Sometimes I make a parenting move that, pre-baby, I swore I would never do. Spending 28 bucks on my kid's first haircut when I have perfectly good scissors at home is one of those choices.

But hey, if you got to sit in a pink car while you got your hair cut, you might just pay that extra cash too.

This was the most girly experience either of us have ever had. Esmé had a choice of Thomas the Train, Lightning McQueen, or a pink Barbie car. But even after I tried telling her how cool the train was, she insisted on this Pepto Bismol car. Maybe it's because I put her in a pink shirt this morning. Or maybe I'm failing as a mother.

Ever since Esmé watched Grama get her haircut, she's been super excited to get hers cut. She often pretends that she's my hairdresser and spends a looooong time combing, "cutting", and blowdrying my hair. (It actually feels kinda nice!)

So I told the hairdresser that Esmé will do just fine and I'm positive that she will sit very still. But I guess the hairdresser has had one too many rowdies and insisted on turning on the TV during the cut.

Notice the glazed look of Dora-hypnotism.

So after the cut, the blow-dry, and the application of more hair products than I have in my bathroom cupboard, out comes the red glitter shaker. Yes, glitter. The stuff you use with glue. On paper. During craft time. The stuff that you never want your kid bringing home because you will still be finding bits of it after your kid has left for college, let alone imbedded in her hair for all eternity. Esmé's expression above echoes my thoughts exactly.

In the end she left with some sort of sparkly, poofy, pagent-girl hairdo, but it was definitely worth the experience.

And no girly experience would be complete without a halter-top wearing Barbie sticker to take home.