Ah, the classic Saturday morning parenting blunder. One moment, I was cozily snuggled under the blankets, and then my husband, Tom, crept in and nuzzled my neck. Next thing we knew, we were both out cold for two hours—not even a hint of romance, just pure exhausted sleep. We’re parents to three energetic boys, ages 6, 4, and 2, and during those two hours, our house became a playground of chaos.
When we finally emerged from our slumber, we were greeted by a disaster zone: toys strewn across the living room, a battlefield of stuffed animals in the bedrooms, and foam Christmas stickers plastered across the hardwood floors. But the real shocker awaited us in the form of our youngest, little Leo.
“Tom?” I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Does Leo’s hair look… thinner?” Leo, our golden-haired cherub, usually sported a glorious mane that flowed down to his shoulders. But now, it appeared as if someone had taken a pair of garden shears to it. Chunks were missing from various spots, leaving a patchy mess where there once were lovely locks.
I have a soft spot for my boys’ long hair. My middle child, Max, had only recently begged for a haircut after two weeks of deliberation, and I still kept the ponytail. My oldest, Jake, is currently rocking surfer-length hair, and Leo was my little Goldilocks—mischievously mistaken for a girl, yet completely adorable in my eyes. And now? It was like a crime scene of hair.
The primary suspect quickly emerged: Max, my 4-year-old. He simply wanted his baby brother to have a hairstyle like his own—one that he had just chopped off with scissors. Hair clumps mingled with Christmas stickers on the floor, and I was so furious I wanted to toss all of his favorite toys into a bonfire.
Instead, I opted for a serious chat I like to call “Scissors: A Lesson in Responsible Usage.” Afterward, I locked myself in the shower and let the tears flow. No shame here—I was genuinely attached to the idea of having long-haired boys. Maybe it was all that post-grunge music from my teenage years.
Once I composed myself, I had to decide our next move: accept the “Great Hair Hack,” as I dubbed it, or seek professional help. I was leaning toward just letting it be, fearing that a hairdresser would only make matters worse. But Tom, who clearly didn’t share my emotional attachment to hair length, insisted we tidy up Leo’s look. I begrudgingly lost the argument when he reminded me, “It’s just hair. It’ll grow back,” a statement that everyone seems to use in these situations but offers zero comfort.
Reluctantly, I drove Leo to Ye Old Kiddie Haircuttery, a whimsical salon filled with colorful scissors and combs, where kids earned prizes post-haircut. They placed Leo in a chair atop two booster seats, swaddled him in a haircutting cape, and the stylist asked the dreaded question: “So, do you want me to even it up?”
“No! Preserve as much length as possible while keeping it socially acceptable!” I blurted, cutting Tom off mid-sentence. The stylist nodded, continuing to ask for my approval after each snip. “I’ve never seen such a creative brother haircut before,” she remarked. “Usually, it’s little girls cutting bangs.” I pointed a finger at Max, who was grinning like he’d just pulled off a master prank.
In the end, Leo emerged with a modified bowl cut—shorter in the back and a little longer in the front, giving him a pop-star vibe. Everyone oohed and aahed over his cuteness, and he got a prize, but I couldn’t shake the feeling of longing for his flowing hair.
Months later, Leo’s hair is finally approaching its previous length, and I’m grateful. Yes, we fell asleep on a Saturday morning, but it could have been far worse than a sibling haircut. And they were right: hair grows back. Yet, the guilt of dozing off while my kids wreaked havoc lingers.
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Summary:
In this humorous recounting of a Saturday morning gone awry, Jessica Andrews shares her experience of waking up to find that her son Leo’s glorious long hair had been hacked off by his brother Max. After a visit to a children’s hair salon, Leo emerges with a modified bowl cut, and Jessica reflects on the chaos of parenting, the emotional attachment to her sons’ hairstyles, and the inevitable growth that follows such mishaps.