There are moments when I catch my reflection in the mirror and think, “Not too shabby.” Then there are those times when I see myself while scrubbing the toilet or cleaning up sticky toothpaste on the counter, and I cringe, wondering how I managed to step outside looking like that. Spoiler alert: it’s usually the latter.
Nothing can send me into a panic about my suburban mom frumpiness quite like a disastrous haircut. Thankfully, I have a stylist who works wonders on my hair every few months, leaving me looking fabulous for about 12 hours. But trust me, I’ve endured my share of unfortunate haircuts. Haven’t we all? Indeed, the Haircut From Hell is a common rite of passage for many children, and at some point, every parent will face the chaos of an unexpected haircut after their adventurous 4-year-old gets their hands on scissors.
Having two sons and no daughters, I figured I could dodge the meltdown that often accompanies the Haircut From Hell. But fate had other plans for me. A few years back, I took my eldest son, Ethan, to a local salon for his semi-annual trim. He prefers his hair on the longer side, and let’s be honest, I can only muster the strength for this task twice a year.
He whined, and I reminded him that he could keep his hair as long or short as he wanted, but maintaining good hygiene—meaning occasional haircuts—was essential. After settling into the chair, we both recited the familiar “just a trim” mantra to the stylist. I moved to the next chair to keep my younger son, Liam, company while he got his own trim.
Moments later, the stylist leaned over to whisper, “I don’t think he’s happy.” Naturally, I knew he wouldn’t enjoy it. But when I approached Ethan, I discovered he was in tears—no, not just tears; he was sobbing.
“Just a trim! We told her just a trim!” he exclaimed, hiccupping between sobs. It was a full-blown emotional crisis right there in the salon, and I totally understood his distress. The stylist had taken off far more than just the split ends. I felt like crying too.
He shed big, fat tears as she continued to cut his hair, and his sobs echoed through the car ride home. “I know it’s tough,” I comforted, “but we’ve all been there, buddy.”
“No. NO ONE HAS EVER HAD A HAIRCUT THIS AWFUL. I WANT MY OLD HAIR BACK!” he wailed.
“Sure, we have. Every one of us has had a bad haircut at some point. I know I have,” I reassured, though he wasn’t buying it.
“This is different! YOU’RE LYING, MOM.”
“Look, it’s not like you lost a limb or something,” I tried to put things in perspective. It didn’t help.
Once home, he dashed upstairs, pulling his hood over his head to hide in his room. A friend arrived shortly after, but Ethan refused to come out.
“No! I don’t want him to see me! I’m never going to school again!”
“I think he just needs some time,” I whispered to his friend through the door. My husband came in to lighten the mood with some jokes about his own baldness. But in the end, it was the age-old advice that finally coaxed Ethan out from under his hood: “It’ll grow back.”
I wish I could say that was the last time tears were shed over hair, but I’d be fibbing. About a year and a half later, my long-haired, wavy son announced he wanted a shorter style. Yes, he had grown it all back only to decide it was time for a significant cut.
“Are you positive? Are you really sure?” I asked repeatedly, anxious about another bout of tears.
“Yes, I’m sure,” he insisted, each time more resolute. Two days later, after he convinced me he truly wanted the change, we returned to that same salon where he had cried 18 months earlier. The stylist clipped away, removing 6 to 8 inches of his curls, leaving a small mountain of hair on the floor.
As I stared at the pile of his golden locks, I was hit with a wave of nostalgia. I saw the boy he was becoming, a tween now, and I couldn’t help but wonder about the man he would grow into. It was an existential crisis right in the middle of a salon. I fought back tears as I watched him transform before my eyes.
But then, he looked up, and the smile on his face chased away my sadness. “I love it!” he declared. “I absolutely love it, Mom!”
If he’s happy, I’m happy, I thought. He always looks handsome. As we navigate this new phase of life, I realize I’ll need to guide him at times but also let him lead. So I put on my best smile and said, “I’m so glad you like it. It looks great,” all the while reminding myself, it’ll grow back.
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Summary
Navigating children’s haircuts can be an emotional rollercoaster for both parents and kids. From the inevitable tears of a bad haircut to the bittersweet moments of watching them grow, haircuts symbolize transitions in life. While it’s natural to feel sadness over changes, these experiences also offer opportunities for growth and bonding. Remember, it’ll always grow back.