Is fear of the hairdresser genetically inherited? Is it possible to pass onto your child a phobia of haircuts?
His first haircut went smashingly... in Falmouth (UK) we spotted a specialised kids hairdresser complete with ride-on car shaped chairs and DVD players. The only trauma involved was mine - my baby now looked like a little boy.
But that was September, and as we know, hair grows. So when the little dude started to look like a real boufhead I started to have to contemplate another haircut.
A friend kindly offered to do the deed... oh dear, not very successful. Too much crying and screaming, tears and wriggling. We only managed half a haircut; it looked a bit tragic. Especially his bed-head hairdo each morning, with it sticking up all over.
So this morning, as I was making a last minute before-the-kids-finish-school-for-the-year dash to the mall to get the Christmas PJ's, I impulsively took a detour into the hairdressers.
All I can think is that somehow I have passed onto him my haircut-phobia. Some people fear dentists. I don't mind dentists. For me, it's the hairdresser that makes me break out in a cold sweat.
It started very young, for me. Mum was the hairdresser (bless her. I love her. I have forgiven her). She did fine when she just trimmed our fringe and let the rest grow... but it was when she started getting creative and copying the styles she saw in magazines that we started to look really really bad (check out my sister's "pageboy" style).
Mum knew she'd done me wrong. She even let me have the next day off school because she knew I shouldn't really have to be seen in public. When I finally did venture out, my friends' sympathy confirmed my worst fears. It was bad. There was nothing I could do about it apart from wait for it to grow. And vow never to let Mum touch my hair again.
"Oh man! I'm going to go and tell her she's a useless cutter!" he stated indignantly. Thanks bro, that makes me feel so much better, ya know?
At some point I must have just wised up and stopped cutting my hair altogether. So began the golden years of long uncut locks and The Perm.
These days I can't really get away with long hair (what with being forty and all). I prefer it above-shoulder length; I've finally found a good hairdresser and I manage to visit her regularly... say every 4-6 months?
I really hope my Scraggy grows out of his haircut phobia... he looks so very handsome with his new do (in spite of all the scrapes on his gorgeous wee face).
And I promise promise promise I won't ever cut his hair myself.