Monday, 26 March 2018
Nitty Gritty (Adventures of L-Plate Gran)
Little G and Small LOVE their nursery and frequently bring home stuff they've made (in Small's case, with help) or paintings they've done. Sometimes, they also bring home things that are slightly less welcome. Like nits.
We have had several bouts of nits ~ refuting the myth that it's only 'poor kids whose parents don't wash their hair' who have them. You must be mad attacks the little blighters with a 'nitty gritty' comb. I don't have such an article in the house, so they tend to get gone over with the cat's flea comb, which works just as well, though the cat isn't too chuffed about it.
Small, however, is proving harder to rid of nits. His hair, now the colour of golden syrup, is thick and curling over his ears. There is a reason for this: the one and only time You must be mad took him for a haircut ~ to one of those places where you pay a small fortune for your kids to sit in cute little cars with their own personal videos, he refused to co-operate. The resultant haircut looked as if the hairdresser had been snipping at a moving target. Which is pretty much what happened.
Things have now reached a tipping point, however. Not only is there the nits sitch, but whenever Small indulges his love of dressing up as as a Pink Fairy**, complete with wings and a wand, I can get his hair into two tiny ponytails. You must be mad freely acknowledges there is a problem, but really doesn't want to go through the same rigmarole as before.
Step forward our lovely local hairdresser, who is going to give it a go on the basis that her own son was a total nightmare at a similar age, but she managed to cut his hair. Little G and I are going to do some pre-haircut indoctrination, on the lines of combing Small's hair and pretending to snip it, while chanting 'Snip...snip...snip ' in jolly voices which we will get him to repeat. L-Plate Grandad (Small's favourite person) will sit him on his lap. I will provide a selection of toys, and we will apologise to the rest of the customers in advance.
What could possibly go wrong?
** The 'Trans Activists' would tell me that Small is self- selecting his own gender. To which I say: if there are TWO dress-up fairy dresses and your big sister is wearing the WHITE one, and you like to copy her, it only leaves you the PINK one, so don't be so silly.
Posted by Carol Hedges at 03:23
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Live this post! My son used to claim that cutting his hair hurt. Eventually I just gave up.ReplyDelete
I may have to post an update....Delete
My friend's son was the same. Luckily her friend was a hairdresser and she went with him under the dining room table and sat and cut his hair. That was the only place he would let her cut it. As for nuts! Oh I remember the days. I even caught them myself when I worked in a nursery.ReplyDelete
I wish you luck - my daughter ended up with a hairdresser who would visit at home till my granddaughter got the hang of it! Oh well, it will pass ....ReplyDelete
our attitude is:responsibility, we're just having a goDelete
One of life's many joys...ReplyDelete
Oh the joy of nits! My daughters both had them in South Africa and they weren’t allowed to go to school till they had passed an inspection worthy of an army drill to make sure they had all gone. I wish you joy in that endeavour! Still, you are being very creative in your hairdresser desensitising programme! Love it :)ReplyDelete