Aiston, the Barber

Today, you woke up early from your nap, as is your habit on the weekends (we like to think it's because you want to spend as much time with your Mommy and Daddy as possible). We both took one look at you and gasped. You immediately launched into a monologue about how you screwed the lid back on and how you cleaned up your mess, all the while gesturing to your face which was marked with black mascara. All of this sounded very familiar. In the past few months, you have gotten up on Sunday mornings, tiptoed downstairs and found the chocolate stash. You have opened medicine packages, vitamins, candy canes and triple-wrapped chocolates, eaten them, and smeared the evidence on the living room couch. So, upon hearing "Mommy, I...I...I...I...cleaned up my mess," we knew you were up to something...again.

Up we went to our bedroom with the camera in tow. We walked into the bathroom and a pile of your beautifully long black hair greeted us. From the floor. I checked your head and you had indeed taken the scissors and cut a chunk of your hair off, right down to the scalp. You had also taken my mascara and dabbed your eyes with it, having watched me countless times. Finally, you had opened my lotion bottle and smeared some on your body. We knew it would only be a matter of time before you got your hands on the scissors and pretended to play barber. 

After cleaning up what remained, having a heart to heart, and insisting on you spending some quiet time in your room, we made our way to see Alex, the barber at Bruno's, who shaved your head for the first time. Daddy was not too keen on this idea, as he has loved your long hair, and he even joked about wanting to give you a mullet, but he also wouldn't have you walking around with a bald patch on the top of your head. 

Your hair was sheared off and we all giggled about your new fuzzy head. You look pretty handsome with your new haircut and you love looking in the mirror and feeling your soft head. 

After Alex worked his magic, we played at Urdanetta Park, where we snapped a few photos of your new grown-up look. And watched you get whacked into next week by a boy on a swing named Gregory wearing soccer cleats. You were shocked and had a delayed reaction, but after a quick cry, you got right back to playing with your usual stealth. What a trooper! 

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