That's because my blow dryer is O-F-F (at least for the summer). Buzz cuts have been professionally administered all around, and I have 3 boys who now look like new army recruits.
Back in the days before I lost all sentimentality in favor of pragmatism, I would weep when the stylists would click on their buzzers and remove my babies' precious locks. Those sweet little curls of the toddler years were snatched away in nanoseconds. How cold and heartless it all seemed.
Not anymore. Now I merrily skip into Hair Cuttery and offer up one simple request:
For the cost of $10 a head plus tip, I save hundreds of dollars on haircut costs over the next 4-5 months. Unshackled from having to dry, comb, and style hair for a trio of jumpy boys every morning allows me time to make coffee before piano, chess, violin, soccer, baseball, and mommy's analysis for mothers who over-schedule. We practically saunter out the door once hair becomes a non-issue. Why in the name of all that is holy don't I stick to this cut year-round? The sleep gained! The hours saved! The sanity preserved! Heck, I started to want a buzz cut, too! When I suggested this to my husband, he suggested a divorce. Good to know.
As the final dusting of each neck is performed by the stylists, I look at the mounds of castaway hair on the floor of Hair Cuttery. Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty we are free at last!
Thank you Dan, Jack, and Joey for allowing me to strip you of your Samsonian strength this way. Thank you for not putting up a fight as mommy marches towards a liberated summer. Thank you for not being born girls and demanding french braids and twists (I would have had to outsource to more adept mothers).
Thank you, boys of summer, thank you.