It’s fast approaching the Easter holidays here and I’m not sure what I’m dreading more: being surrounded by copious amounts of chocolate (for some reason it tastes nicer when in egg form) and haircuts. Not for me, I might add – I don’t complain about being sat in a chair and pampered for three hours – but for my boys…
Now, Juan would have his hair cut every other day, with no qualms. Number 3 only needs a shave around his man bun, now and then, but number 2 HATES having a haircut. Having ASD means that being touched in any capacity, is unacceptable. Completely and utterly out of the question. Our last trip to the barber, was eventful…
Our normal barber was full, and given that my musketeers’ hair grows out, rather than long, I had no option but to try elsewhere. I’d only just picked all the boys up from school and number 2 was tired and hungry: I wish I’d have been able to try again on a day when he wasn’t already narky. We walked into the new barbershop and Juan went first, to show 2 that it was ok. 2, at this point, decided that I was worthy of a call to ChildLine for not letting him grow long, greasy, death metal hair and for this, he was going to make me suffer. He sat in the chair and shut down. No eye contact or response when I asked if he was ok or tried to throw him a smile. Mr barber man was relatively quick, trying to (unsuccessfully) strike up some chit chat with 2. This was never going to happen but bless him for trying.
He finished his cut and 2 stood up, with a face that said, ‘if I could pick up the pool table in the middle of this shop, it’d be going through that window’. I was still in full-on reassurance mode (making things worse, as it went) and I wanted him to know how smart he looked. ‘Oh buddy! You look lovely! What do you say?’. Big. Mistake. 🤦🏼♀️ I’d asked a brutally honest child how he felt about a haircut I already knew he didn’t want. Even so, ‘I LOOK LIKE A PILE OF WANK!’ was not the answer I’d expected… the barber looked at me, mortified and asked ‘what did he say?!’ at which point 2 glared in his direction and growled ‘THANK YOU!’, before storming out. Dave* didn’t know whether to piss himself laughing or hug me. Instead, Captain Sensible took over as he pointed to the door closing behind 2 as he shot down the street and shouted ‘Go! I’ll pay!’ 3 is not quite as sensible as Dave, and some might say he’s like his dad in that he’d laugh if his arse was on fire. So, imagine my joy when he’s barely able to say anything other than ‘pile of wank!’ amidst his fall-down-laughing giggles.
So, if you see us over the break, please don’t comment on 2’s close resemblance to Worzel Gummidge: I’m aware and with this incident as the alternative, I couldn’t care less 🤦🏼♀️