Monday, November 7, 2011

Adventures in Permissive Parenting

When my son asked if he could cut his own hair, I said, "Sure!" I mean, more time for me, right? I tend to be a permissive parent, letting my sons eat peanut butter and baloney sandwiches and wash their own laundry, even if it meant they wore wrinkled Sunday shirts. When they got old enough to care, they handled their laundry differently. Experience is usually the best teacher.
When I heard my independent barber son use a water spray bottle in between bouts of the buzzing hair clippers, I called through the door, "Clippers like dry hair better."
"But they aren't working," he answered.
"Maybe we need new ones," I said.
But it was too late. Several minutes later, he said, "I'm bald." Well, some spots were bald, but other spots weren't. So I used my Magic Mom Moves to even out his haircut. Yes, he still has hair. Being blond, it's hard to see.
Once his 18-year-old brother caught his breath from laughing, he told him he looked just like Aang from "The Last Airbender." Then he made a blue arrow like Aang wears on his cartoon head. Michael took the arrow to school with him. Who knows? He may wear it until his hair grows back.
What kind of fashion/design/social faux pas have you experienced?

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