Haircuts

When Zane and I pick Justin up from school, the moms—and sometimes dads—congregate in the gym to wait for the kids. We go through the typical small talk: How was your day?, Looks like snow conversations. The moms—and sometimes dads—will say hi to Zane and help put the shoe back on that he loves to kick off.

This past week, one of the moms asked if I cut Zane’s hair. Maybe he looked a little shaggy that day, or she could see evidence of scissor marks in his hair. The answer was: yes, I do cut his hair. Ever since we embarked on our road trip in 2006, I found it easier to cut Justin’s hair than seek out a kid-friendly hair place. Now that Justin is older, he will let me run a razor through his hair. With Zane, it’s a little trickier. As a matter of fact, it is a two-person job.

Here’s the routine: We seat Zane in a booster chair. Jeff holds Zane’s head very firmly while I squirt water on it and hack away with my hair scissors. Sometimes Zane likes to make quick moves, so I have to move equally fast, and Jeff has to hold onto him that much harder. I cut his entire head of hair the same length. That is, whatever hair is visible above the fingers that grasp it. He has only a short tolerance for this activity. He will eventually fuss, which ultimately leads to crying. He doesn’t like crying. We don’t like crying. We’d rather avoid the crying, so speed is key.

The woman who cuts Jeff’s hair suggested we use a razor on Zane. It would be much safer, she said. But when we tried, he had a bald spot on one section of his head. He already has enough to deal with: splints, TLSO, glasses, adaptive equipment. He doesn’t need a bald head, too.

Maybe when he is less wiggly and can sit independently, he will go to an actual stylist. Until then, he’ll have to put up with mom, dad, and the scissor marks.