I didn't actually get to the haircut today, although I fully intended to. Mike worked on the truck most of the day, took a load to the dump, moved alot of the stuff that was in the garage down to the basement of the garage and I did a whole lot of laundry, sleeping (until 10:30!), playing games with the kids and trying to figure out knitting before I actually I got to the class. I'm usually pretty slow when it comes to learning these types of things and I didn't want to be the one holding the group back.
So anyway, I was having a conversation with Liam while I was hanging up some clothes downstairs. I mentioned to him that soon we were going to give him a haircut. (Trying to acclimate him to the idea.) Now, I might as well have said that we're going to cut off his big toe. The kid hates haircuts, thinks they are the absolute worst thing in his little three year old life. Seriously, worst. thing. ever. As in torture.
The other day Lundi was teasing him, telling him that she was going to give him a pony tail like a "pretty girl." He didn't like that idea. So today when I mentioned it to him, he said: "Mommy, I don't want a haircut, and I do want to keep me a boy."
I think he's worried. Poor kid. Maybe I'll wait a little while longer.