The Doctor got a really big hair cut today. Really big. Like now he looks like he's 15 - and sometimes he behaves that way too.
About five weeks ago I took him to a local hairdresser that had been recommended to me by the cousin of the owner (sounds ominous already, uh huh). I pulled up at this local hairdresser, and really, I should have considered my gut feeling at the time. Because I wanted to drive right on out of there, hit the road and never turn back.
But we had an appointment, and I like to keep appointments and I like to keep my word. So we three stumbled in to what I can only describe as an Emo style welcome.
The smalls both sat up on their chairs and I could see the Doctor was feeling really uncomfortable. He shot me daggers and I tried to be upbeat. Nonchalant. Oh yes, you're having fun aren't you up in that big chair?
Apparently both hairdressers, by pure coincidence, had left their personalities at home - on the same day. Amazing. So I continued to sit there awkwardly while Tiny's pleased as punch to be having her hair cut, the Doctor is still filthy at me, and I'm pretending to be really engrossed in the range of hair products stacked on their shelves.
Both hair cuts lasted no longer than 15 minutes and we were out. When we got home Matt didn't even realise that the Doctor had had a hair cut, and Tiny had been transformed from a wee little mermaid with shoulder length hair wavy crazy hair into a Stepford Wife with a severe bob.
The moral to this story is: don't visit cranky hairdressers. And trust your gut feeling. Particularly when dealing with scissor-wielding personality-less Emos.
I took the Doctor back to our normal hairdresser today and briefed lovely, friendly Kelly - and she - et voila - did exactly as I asked. Short. Cute. Like a pineapple (yes, that was my description of the haircut I wanted).
However Tiny was totally disgruntled that there was no haircut on the cards for her. So I had to placate her with a spray from the water bottle, a blitz from the hairdryer and a tickle with the fluffy hair brush.
But this, my friends, is not the only of our hair woes. Just the other night Tiny got a bath toy stuck in her hair. Stuck. I walk in to see her sitting with Elmo in a submarine tightly wound around her hair, and the Doctor giggling. Seriously, this toy is kind of large and was just dangling from her head. And I had to cut the darn thing out.