New haircut sparks a change of behaviour
CLOTHES maketh the man, the saying goes.
But, in our house, it's not the clothes. It's the haircut.
I'm a big fan of the home haircut, going way back. My nanna and granddad used to cut each other's hair, and granddad would trim mine for me, too, as a little girl.
Mum used to do the sticky-tape-across-the-fringe trick to varying degrees of success and I used the same trick myself as a teenager.
I suppose it has been pretty easy, given my hair is just long and straight, and my idea of hairstyling is a ponytail.
The Child Genius hasn't let anyone other than a qualified professional near her hair since The Haircut Incident of 2007, where Modern Dad created an asymmetrical disaster that almost required a head shave to fix.
And the She-Devil often requires the services of the staff at Price Attack to rectify her own attempts at home haircutting, usually in the week or so before school photos.
But the boy is a fan of the home haircut, even though it appears his haircut has the ability to alter his personality.
When he was tiny, he had the most beautiful, long, golden hair you have ever seen.
That is, after he grew out of his unfortunate baby-with-a-combover stage, thank goodness for baby beanies is all I can say about that.
He looked like a little surfer dude, in his boardies and thongs and sand-infused hair.
Unfortunately, one too many people (so one) thought him to be a girl and that was that, off with his long hair, said Modern Dad.
I cried, but agreed to give him a trim. He ended up looking like Prince Valiant. Not really an improvement.
So I tearfully agreed that a number three all over was going to be our best option, said goodbye to the baby hair and hello to the big boy hair.
You know how Samson lost his strength when Delilah shaved his head? Well, we had what I like to call a reverse Samson on our hands.
It was like the lack of hair allowed all the evil to rise to the surface.
My angelic long-haired baby gave way to a demon-spawn toddler, and I 99.9% blame the haircut.
It happened again last week.
Modern Dad was in charge of the hair removal while I spoke with the visiting midwife.
They waited until she had left - so there were no witnesses, I suppose - and out came the haircut. The boy had a mohawk. He looked like a disgraced NRL player on a Mad Monday Bali trip and behaved about the same.
The level of obnoxiousness was unprecedented and not helped at all by the lack of teeth he is sporting.
Fortunately the novelty, and the need for styling products, wore off quite quickly, and he is back to his regular-person haircut now.
And he is back to his regular-person behaviour, too, at least until his haircut leads him astray again.
This term really will be just so perfect
IT'S hard to believe the kids are going into term three.
I swear the school year only just started. As I restock pencil cases and try to find lunchboxes that have sat in schoolbags growing mould for the past fortnight, I do what I do every term: make resolutions.
The kids will do all their homework, not just their readers. As soon as we get home from school in the afternoon, EVERY day.
I will make lunches and lay out uniforms at night, rather than doing a mad scramble in the mornings.
I will write important things on my calendar and actually check my calendar.
That's it. The same three resolutions I make every term.
I'm pretty good at the lunches and uniforms thing now but the other two still need work.
However, this term I have to add the needs of Chickybabe into the mix.
I've had a blissful two weeks with Modern Dad at home, school holidays and sleeping in after restless multi-feed nights. But, come Monday, it's organisation and routine central.
Well, probably disorganisation central. Let's be honest.
I'm pretty sure adding a new baby is not a known cure for constant chaos.