Shave and a Haircut

We took Shae in to get a haircut this morning. Yes, I do appreciate the irony of doing this after school picture day. But that's one the of things about being a terrible, inappopriate parent, isn't it? Having the gift of cosmically bad timing?

She posed for this mugshot before we left. She was actually very excited about getting a haircut, and she asked us when Mommy and Daddy were going to get haircuts. Like, good going, kid, like your mother isn't already neurotic enough, now I need to worry about what you think of my hair?

Last time she got her hair cut, it was before her birthday. This time they gave her a shampoo and condition in the big sink, because her hair is just so coarse and curly and damaged from the sun and chlorine all summer that a spray bottle wasn't going to cut it. Shae thought this was hysterically funny.

This time, she sat on the booster seat all by herself. She really was phenomenal; every time we go out somewhere, I am impressed with how well-behaved she is. Complete strangers were fawning over her. It's always great to see and hear (especially after the morning we had, which was ... not good).

She didn't cry, she wasn't scared of the scissors, nothing. She wouldn't sit completely still, of course, but she did a decent job, even after she got the hiccups, which kept cracking her up.

And I didn't realize how much she really needed that haircut. Look how long her hair was! And if you look carefully (and perhaps click in the picture to blow it u), you can see her split ends.

Oh, and you know what I didn't take pictures of? THE AFTER.Worst. Parent. EVER!