There was a patch in the very center of his forehead that he'd cut right down to the scalp. I gasped as I saw him, and he immediately said, "I'm sorry, mama." (At least the boy knows when he's done wrong.)
I didn't want to make it any worse, so we scheduled a salon appointment for Thursday night to see if anything could be done to correct the damage. When I ask Miss Kathy (our hairdresser) if she could salvage anything, she shook her head sadly. "We're pretty much gonna have to buzz this one." Dangit. Clay has such pretty hair, and I love the style of it.
At first, Clay thought the trimmers were really fun, then he happened to catch a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. I don't think he was prepared for how different he'd look. He cried a little and said, "I want my hair back!" I felt like the devil.
However, one sucker and a couple of pep talks later, he was telling me he liked it. And I notice now that he's mentioning some of the same positives I talked up (it's cooler for summer, easier to wash, hey - it might even make you faster in the pool!) when he's telling others about his cool new 'do.