Tonight we tortured our children. Not really, of course, but that's what they would tell you. You know, if all of them actually talked.
All we really did tonight we cut the kids' hair, and that, to them, is the worst form of torture we know how to inflict at the moment. Connor's hair is unfortunately like his mother's used to be - stick straight without an ounce of curl or body (oddly enough, after Mommy started coloring her hair, it started getting softer and having more bounce - go figure on that one and try not to hate me for it). But Connor, the poor kid, has the stick straight hair, at least for right now. His actually looks much better all cut off.
The little guys' hair was getting really long - hanging in their face and over their ears - and it's so thick that they're constantly dripping with sweat even in the dead of winter. And, if I actually knew how to cut hair, we might leave it a bit longer than we did since they actually have hair that looks good long. But, I don't, so I handed the clippers to Josh and he went to work. I, of course, sat in front of each one of them holding their hands in a death grip so they couldn't try to swat them away (or rub their hairy hands and arms on their mouth or nose and make it that much worse - yes, it's a natural instinct and they've done it before and will certainly do it again). Always fun, holding your child down while they scream, angry at first and just plain pitiful at the end.
So that was torture part one. Torture part two was afterward, when they had to be showered off so that their bath water was completely filled with hair. They HATE the shower. They were already upset, so that didn't go well at all.
The good news is everyone calmed down, eventually had a nice bath and found their way into bed. All but Xander are now sleeping, and I think he just worked himself up too much to wind back down yet. He took it the worst tonight, by far. And that's saying something. Sawyer actually took it the best. And that's just beyond words. The quirky and cool child whimpered the least, including his big brother.
In the back of my mind, I can't help hearing what Connor is so fond of telling us lately . . . "That's not very nice!" (and you must hear it in the very quiet, child-like voice in which it is spoken, usually while shaking his little head back and forth as though reprimanding you).
Nope, it's not. But sometimes life isn't nice. It's not always what you want or expect. And I won't mention that were cutting nails tomorrow. I'd think of it for what it is - keeping the boys looking halfway respectable. But that's not what they're going to think. That's another form of torture, as far as their concerned.
