McBaby has been called " a pretty girl" one time too many, so this morning I woke up on a mission - he is going to have his hair cut. I happened to remember seeing a lovely hairdressers at the bottom of town that seemed well set up for cutting children's hair - there was a little car to sit in and a TV to distract the little one, so that's where we headed.
A walk that should have taken 5 minutes took more like 45 as the McBaby refused again to walk, but eventually we arrived to find a sign on the door that said: "Back in 5 minutes".
So we waited for five minutes and a bit more before realising the door was unlocked. So went in and a woman appeared. I asked if they were open, and indicated the sign.
"I was making myself a cup of coffee", she said. I asked if we could have a haircut and she said: "Only if he sits still, I'm not pinning him down."
I didn't ask her to, but I was so gratified that she called McBaby a boy that I didn't say anything but then thought, if does start wriggling, she's not going to continue and I'll have a baby with a helter skelter haircut.
She'd disappeared by then anyway, so I took the McBaby back up the street to another salon where he started crying. "We have an appointment at 11am" she said. "But I'm not doing it if he cries like that".
So we tried place number 3 and we have an appointment this afternoon.
Wish me luck!