Tonight after baths we gave Atticus a haircut. Not to be overly dramatic, but the experience ranks among one of the worst parenting experiences we've had. He screamed and thrashed his head around for all forty minutes and the end result was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad haircut that is nearly bald. We're going to have have to take him to a barber shop tomorrow to get it evened out and I am not looking forward to explaining ourselves to the barber.
Within five minutes of finishing, of course, Atticus was talking about how brave he'd been and asking to have his hair cut again. This makes me hold out hope that tomorrow's trim might not be quite so bad. Seriously though, the idea of trimming his hair seemed so simple and it now looks so awful. It makes me want to cry.
P.S. The pictures above are from earlier today (pre-cut) and have nothing to do with the text. We took naps, went on a walk, visited a park, and saw a bulldozer. It was pretty lovely.