More Lost in Translation

So, I took the kid for a haircut.  He keeps wavering between the Blonde One's curls and the Wildcard's short spikiness and finally it was time for me to intervene.  Yes the long curls were cute, but he just couldn't carry the look like his older brother could.  

So, we opted for short and maybe spiky.

Because I really can't make a commitment, I dropped in to a hair salon on the way home from karate the other night.  As luck would have it, there were no openings for walkins.  The following day, on the way to the commissary we had the same luck.

Finally, on the way to Costco with Captain Awesome in tow, we stopped at Fantastic Sam's and were told that it would only be a ten minute wait.  That was, well, fantastic.

Like clockwork, ten minutes later the little Vietnamese hairstylist popped her head out and called Captain Awesome's name.  I walked back to the chair with him, helped him get situated, and talked to the hairstylist for a minute.

She couldn't stop looking at him in the mirror, with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

"Is it boy or girl?" she finally asked.

I assured her that "it" was a boy, and that he would like a short, spiky hair cut, cut short around the ears and neck.  She seemed to understand.

So, I took a spot in the seating area where I could watch, but not interfere.  A minute later she was back.

"Um, mom?  She so cute.  She should have bob!"

Visions of my cute little ninja walking out with a curly bob, glittery Barbie nail extensions, and an intriguing story to tell his therapist in the future bounced through my head.

Thank God for photo books.  A picture truly is worth a million words.