I hope each of you had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend. We scooted down to my in-laws' place, which happens to be at the beach. With warm temperatures and someone's second birthday in the forecast, we decided to finally cross something off our list that we've been talking about forever - getting the duckling a haircut. Dramatic, I know. You can stop holding your breath now.
While I love the fluffy curls around the nape of my little guy's neck, the front was edging too close to resembling that little mushroom character from Super Mario. It had to go. And with his second birthday coming next Sunday, it was time for Duckling 2.0, complete with a big boy haircut.
The thing is, a haircut isn't just a haircut when it comes to my husband's family. My husband's grandfather, his father's father, came over from Italy at 14 and was briefly held in the hospital ward of Ellis Island to be treated for scurvy (Ellis being the duckling's middle name, after his great grandfather's passage to America, in case you were wondering). He eventually opened a barber shop in the Bronx, through the back of which was an apartment where my father-in-law grew up.
Needless to say, not any old haircut will do for the great-grandson of an Italian-born barber, so off we went to see Luigi. Luigi cuts my father-in-law's hair and is known to swap wine-making tips with my father-in-law since they both make their own wine at home. We called first to see if they "did" kids' haircuts, to which Luigi replied, "he's a person, too, isn't he?".
Unlike the duckling's previous two haircuts which took place in the back of a toy store, there were no rapping Elmo videos or ladies named Margaret who talked in third person. No, this was a real man lair, with golf on the television and the heavy scent of aftershave clinging to the leather armchairs in the waiting area.
I had a feeling my guy wouldn't be content sitting alone in the chair (remembering how uninterested he was in sitting in Santa's lap at Christmas), but what I didn't expect was that he also wouldn't want to wear what he called "a jacket", or smock, so my husband ended up in the chair and in a smock. Green and fatherhood both look good on him.
The little guy was not so sure at the beginning, but Richie the barber found a toy to keep him distracted (Luigi ended up having someone else already in his chair when we arrived).
Daddy had as much fun watching the transformation from baby to two-year-old as the duckling had pushing the buttons on the toy.
We were quite the entourage, between daddy pretending to also have his hair cut, the proud grandparents watching from the sidelines, and me not-so-delicately circling the chair with an 8 1/2 month pregnant belly and a camera. Subtle is not our last name. It doesn't sound Italian enough.
Just look at the guy in the background of the picture. He's not really finding the humor in a nearly two-year-old's haircut. But who cares when you get to see three generations descending from an Italian barber huddled around one chair?
The little one even put on his brave face when it came to cutting his bangs.
The only thing he wasn't too sure of was the powder on the neck.
That part was over pretty quickly, and he got to move on to the best part. No, not the part where we snapped a million photos of his haircut...
It would be the lollipop bin. The kid loves a lollipop. He even calls his pediatrician "Dr. Lollipop" since she gives him one at the end of each visit.
Jackpot. Mystery flavor.
What did you do this weekend? Any family rites of passage?