Today I decided to book Miles an appointment to get his hair cut. A few months ago he had his first trim and it went really well- no tears, no problems- so I figured he'd do just as great the second time.
I. Was. Very. Wrong.
My grandma and sisters came along and I was pretty excited as we walked into the children's salon. The stylist directed us to a cute little car chair, with cartoons playing in front of him and a little toy to play with. I think he was distracted for about two seconds and then started reaching for me. It was around then I started to get worried. The stylist showed Miles the clippers and he touched them and then I touched him, to show him that it was okay. It didn't matter- she turned them on and he freaked. There was no reasoning, there was no consoling, there was no distracting (we tried anyway and failed miserably). He started angry crying as she turned the trimmers on and got to work. The angry cry turned into the traumatic cry and he was clutching my sweatshirt sobbing, "Maaaaamaaaaa..." It was terrible, and I started wondering if maybe half a haircut wouldn't look so bad. By then, he was screaming so horribly that people walking by the salon stopped to look in through the windows. I looked over to see my grandma wipe away tears, and my sisters were wide-eyed. The stylist remained cool and collected (thank goodness, seeing as she was the one with the scissors) and finally I got him out of the little chair and held him so close. I thought I had scarred him for life! But as soon as he was out of the chair he stopped crying, smiled, and started playing with the toys in the reception area. Afterward, we went and got him a smoothie (he sure loves his smoothies) as a treat. And all was right in the world.
Now, he looks more like a toddler and less like a baby. It's really hitting me that his birthday is on Saturday, that my baby is turning one. But even though he's growing up way faster then I'm prepared for, I love that he still needs his mama when he's sad and that I can make him happy again.