The Haircut

Let me start this post off by first stating, emphatically, that my son is tough. Allow me to illustrate this point before moving on to the events of this past weekend.

Shortly after Joseph was born, Erin had me accompany him to his circumcision. According to the attending nurse, most little guys start crying from the cold antiseptic, and then it's just down hill from there.

MY son, however, throughout the entire surgical procedure, just lay there on the table without even flinching. He simply gazed around the room and blinked. It was at that time, in the tiny room off of the nursery in the American Fork Hospital, that I realized that MY son was as tough as nails—big nails.

This other-worldly tolerance for physical harm has continued to manifest itself during regular visits to the doctor—where Joseph cries not because he is being injected with multiple hypodermic needles, but as a result of the nurse’s unwillingness to let him play with the syringe—as well as through numerous falls that occur in the course his new-found love for climbing on anything and everything (see below):





Now, again, my son is tough: tough, when it comes to physical pain. However, just as Superman has his kryptonite, Joseph has noise.



Most infants are startled by loud noises. Joseph is startled by almost any noise. Here are a list of noises that have made Joseph cry (in no particular order):

--A vacuum cleaner--

--A blender--

--A barking seal--

--A crying baby--

--A goose honking in his face--

--Meat sizzling in a frying pan--

--Mommy blowing her nose--

After this weekend, we can now add to this list:

--hair clippers--

We took Joseph for haircut number two this weekend. Haircut number one, which was performed with just scissors, went off without a hitch. The first haircut looked ok, but we (read: Todd) wasn’t thrilled about paying ten bucks for it each time.

We had contemplated trying to cut his hair ourselves, but decided better of it and tried a different barber shop instead. The poor, unsuspecting hair stylist—unaware of the above-mentioned list—turned on a set of electric clippers behind our poor, unsuspecting child’s head.


This set off the sirens. The sound freaked Joseph out, and he literally screamed his head off (note: my favorite use of the word “literally” is to use it when you don’t mean “literally” at all, as in the previous sentence. There’s nothing quite like using a word to mean the exact opposite of what it means).

The stylist quickly put away the clippers, but Joseph continued to wail long after the buzzing stopped. He paused to whimper briefly, but spent most of the haircut screaming at the top of his lungs. To top it off, just when the whole ordeal seemed to be over, the stylist pulled out a blow dryer to clear away the clippings. At that moment, the screams caused by the buzzing of the hair clippers became the second-loudest shrieks to ever escape his mouth.

Although the experience was traumatic, a package of fruit snacks and some cuddling with mommy helped him get past the horror. Here are some before and after shots:




Apparently, the shock of the whole ordeal also turned his eyes blue. People ask what color his eyes are, but the dominant color seems to vary depending on the light conditions or the color of his clothing.

That afternoon, we took a family-outing to La Jolla. Joseph seemed to have forgiven us: as we walked along the sea shore, he took one his parents’ hands in each of his hands and giggled and screamed--with delight.