Good Hair, Bad Behavior, Familial Amoebae

This Saturday we took Mimi for her first "professional" haircut. 

Readers may recall that Mimi has had her hair cut before, by her father, with mixed results.  The first attempt, a surprise for his wife, was a success.  It wasn't brilliant, but Mimi still looked just fine.  The second time around, also a surprise, was, um, less successful.  I mulletted my little girl.  Sumie came home and, quite unequivocally, barred me from every giving Mimi another haircut.  Ever.  Under punishment of death and torture.  In that order. 

For Mimi's professional haircut, we went to a children's hair salon - Snippety Crickets.  They did a fine job, but it was nothing more than a bang trim.  

Despite the minimal nature of the trim, Mimi thought it all a bit much.  Within a minute she was crying.  Thankfully, the entire haircut took only 2 minutes, so in retrospect, Mimi made it halfway through before tearing up.  Not bad. 

Children's haircutting has to be one of the most lucrative businesses imaginable.  At full steam, most CEOs learn less than Mimi's hairstylist.  I worked it out to about $450.00 an hour for bang trims.  Not bad. 

Following the haircut, Mimi indulged in her first-ever lollipop.  It was a dum-dum and the name rather fit with Mimi's complete inability to figure out how to eat it.  After about half an hour, she finally got it. 

Upon returning home, we took stock of the haircut.  I think it came out rather well.  Unfortunately, Mimi was still attempting to lick things long after the lollipop had been consumed. 

After Mimi stopped licking everything in sight, she sat down to draw with her Mama.  Sumie drew a charming picture of herself and Mimi.

Then, at the bottom of the page, she drew a picture of me.  

One might wonder why I'm holding an Apple TV remote and saying that it "Doesn't work!"  Well, let me explain.  On Wednesday, upon exiting my shower, I found that Mimi had taken her mother's half-full cup of water, left on the coffee table from the night before, and watered the remote controls.  Mimi decided to absolutely drench my Apple TV remote, perhaps because it was the smallest.  All the other remotes came out unscathed, but the Apple remote, it was gone. 

I attempted the standard "put it in a bowl of rice for a few days" trick recommended for any Apple product that has been dowsed, but it failed to work its magic.  Luckily, I've been able to use the Apple Remote App on my ancient Apple iPhone (not even a 3GS) to control my second generation Apple TV, and thus stream music from my Apple MacBook to my Sony TV (Apple hasn't made one...yet).  Yes, Steve Jobs may be dead, but his influence carries on.

With all the caricature going on, Mimi decided to draw the family.  Below (the likenesses are remarkable, but I'll set them out anyway) are the faces of our beloved family.  I'm at the very top, toward the left.  Mimi is immediately below me.  The lovely lady to the far right with the lustrous head of hair is Sumie.   

Though Mimi seems to visualize her entire family - mother, father, aunts, uncles, and cousins - as amoebae, she can still tell them apart.  When asked who was who, Mimi readily identified me, Sumie, herself, and all her cousins.  I knew toddlers see the world a bit differently from adults, but I never thought it was this different!

Compromising Hairstyles

Mimi was born with a mop top.  At one week she boasted more hair than her follically-challenged father.  At least in the back.  

Sumie and I considered trimming the mop from time to time, but we couldn't bring ourselves to submit to it.  The longer it grew, the curlier, and cuter, it got.  And so, the months flew by and the hair continued its rapid advance downward.

At 17 months, though, push had come to shove.  Something had to be done.  The situation was so dire that Mimi couldn't even play the piano without her hair blocking the keyboard!

Knowing that there's not a hairstylist alive for whom Mimi would sit still, I took the job into my own hands.  What drove me to it?  Well, this morning I caught a glimpse of my own hair in the mirror.  

 Genes aren't kind and I knew that if I didn't do something, Mimi could soon be suffering from the same plight as her father.


A bang trim was in order.  I set up her highchair and tied her favorite sleeping blanket, which needed to be washed anyway, around her neck, old-timey barber style.

I then wet down her hair with No-More-Tangles.  This made for some straight, manageable, but greasy hair.  A few forward strokes from the brush and my canvas was ready.  Except for one thing.  It was moving all over the place.

The actual cutting was, by far, the most difficult part.  I really didn't want for Sumie to come home to find her daughter wearing an eye-patch, though I guess it would've made the selection of her Halloween costume a no brainer.  After several attempts at cutting her bangs like one would at a salon, and being repaid with fierce head shaking, I took up a new strategy.  Starting on Mimi's right, I gathered a few strands of hair, perhaps 20% of her bangs, and then snipped.  I repeated the process across her forehead until I reached the other side.  Amazingly, it came out fairly even!  Not sure how that happened, but I'll take it. 

Mimi was unsure of the new look at first,

but I think that she was reasonably satisfied.  After all, the price was right! 

Somehow I don't think we'll be able to wait another 17 months before we take a pair of shears to Mimi's locks.  Maybe next time we'll actually brave a salon.  I just hope we can find one that offers general anesthesia.