Dylan’s hair has grown incredibly long.
But she’s not so keen on getting a trim. So I gave her my best pitch…
“Honey, you need a little trim. Let’s go down to Doodle Doo’s and you can pick out a video and watch TV while they just shape your hair a little bit. You can sit in my lap if you want. Then you’ll get a lolly pop and I’ll even let you pick out a small toy there. Does that sound good?”
“No,” Dylan replies defiantly.
“Well, then I’ll just have to cut it myself at home. No video. No candy. Nothing. Is that what you REALLY want?” I ask.
“Yes. Cut my hair at home.”
Except for my complete lack of beautician skills.
So fine. I’ll learn how to cut hair. Sure, my Tim Gunn inspired mission to learn how to sew somehow veered off the runway. My sewing machine and half finished plaid skirt form 2002 are now packed in storage. But it’s hard to become a budding fashion designer when Tim and Heidi and Michael aren’t around.
This time will be different. So I pull out “The Learning Annex” which is where New Yorkers go to become experts on ANYTHING in one night.
I find tons of awesome courses for just $45 like “How to Be a People Magnet.” Except I don’t really love people. However, my husband will chat with you (really, all of you) endlessly and actually enjoy it. It’s like he’s constantly auditioning to be the official ambassador of New York City. I wonder if he teaches the class.
Wait, this sounds like an interesting class… “How to Talk to Your Cat.” But I don’t have a cat. And if I did, she couldn’t possibly teach me how to cut hair.
I keep looking and find, “How to Mary a Millionaire: The Rich Are Going to Marry Someone… Why Not You?” How brilliant! I’ll be so rich that I can hire someone to teach me how to cut hair. Oh right. I’m already married. Well, that’s suddenly inconvenient.
I hate millionaires.
The Learning Annex sucks. Not one damn beauty class.
And my kid’s hair is eventually going to turn into sticky, golden dreadlocks.