As any autism parent knows – haircuts can be a *nightmare*, *hellish*, *horrific*, *scream inducing, panic attacking* (and that’s just me – not the kid!) …… whichever word works for you .
Well, except my husband – but that part of the story will come later…
So, for the past 7 years, I have armed myself like a solider going into battle - with a portable DVD player with his favorite movie, my iphone so that he can play games, and an extra dose of patience for momma. I have prepared him multiple times with what is going to happen, I have let him pick out how he wants his hair from pictures on the ipad and reminded him of the beloved balloon he will get at the end as a reward for not going ape-shit….. (ok, that’s not the term I use with him – but go with it – you know the drill!)
As the years have passed, he has gotten better with the routine of it and looks forward to playing with their nasty germ-ridden duplos. He likes the girls and finally feels comfortable at our local haircut place. Woo – hoo!!! He still isn’t all that happy with putting on the cape or having them wet down his hair, but playing Angry Birds has kept his meltdowns in check.
Now – insert DAD! You know, the guy that knows all about our struggles and processes to get said haircut – but has yet to experience it firsthand. Just write "newbie" on his forehead.
He decides that he needs to get his own haircut, so, low & behold, he is going to bring along the boy. Since I’m at the grocery store (don’t be jealous that I was solo on my trip), he thinks that Little Man needs his haircut too, since it is past his eyes. He asks the boy how he wants his hair cut. A boy in class has a “fauxhawk”, but since neither of them knows what that means, Little Man tells my husband “Mohawk”! Fine with dad! Without further ado, my husband drives to a NEW hair salon in town. In the parking lot kiddo freaks out and tells him that this is NOT the place! On the fly my husband tells him “but this is the only place that cuts mohawks!” They proceed to give him a super long, super crooked no spike Mohawk. And you know what happened while they were doing this………..absolutely fucking NOTHING! That’s right folks…….. no iphone, no movie, no meltdowns or tears!!! FUCKING BITCH!
Hubs now thinks that I have made this shit up all these crappy-ass years. Beginner’s luck asshole!
In the days that followed he would not spike his hair at all. I think he did it twice. My mother called it a no-hawk. Three weeks later he begged me to get rid of it because he didn’t like it. I am happy to report that his next haircut did go well (thank you iphone). He has come a long way. I’m making hubs take him next time and pray that a meltdown ensues…..just kidding (really, but not really).