|Mohawk, During, After|
The rat’s tail and Krishna patch, along with the need for new passport pictures for an American passport, sealed the deal: it was time for Boone to get a haircut. His first haircut.
I tried calling my own hairdresser’s; I’d thought it would be nice to go to my local, but they weren’t insured to take under threes. I was fairly resigned to go to Kiddie Kuts. The moms told me they had “fast fingers” and that it cost €15. Cough. I had seen the place before and every time, fell into a pool of depression. NOT FUN was written all over it. But, Boone needed a haircut. It’s where everyone else goes. Etc. Then, Joseph suggested G Male. I was hesitant. He called them and they could do it, no problem, for a tenner. We were going to G Male.
I realised this was a Male Bonding Experience (and I realised that I had been gender presumptuous thinking it should be part of my hairdressing world) and that, for once, I was stepping into a very male space with Boone. Looking around, my eyes met one of the customer’s. His self-conscious look said “you recognise me”. I thought “I recognise you.” Five minutes later: OMG, he’s the young fella they bring out to give him some practice and not let Ronan O’Gara take all the glory. A rugby player! A real-life one! In Boone’s hairdresser’s (uh, barbershop?)
It worked out that Joseph’s usual stylist got to do Boone’s hair. He was all set up on my lap when she asked “so, what are we doing?” Uh, cut his hair? Joseph, help! What’s the lingo?! Short, back ‘n’ sides?!
She got to snipping. My heart didn’t fall apart. Tufts of angel hair flew all around, sticking to his cardigan and eyelashes. It wasn’t until she was cutting the red neckest of rat’s tails that I got a bit gulp. Boone was getting his hair cut! He’s so grown up, whaaaa.
As it turns out, the haircut is very cute and instead of making him look like a big boy, it reveals baby Boone; the hair line over his ear, the sweet neck roll of fat, his round baby head.
Still, he’s never getting his hair cut again.