It is Spirit Day, today, at the boys school.
And, in addition to just wearing your Spirit Day clothing, it’s Crazy Hair day.
Never a problem when Monkey Girl’s school has Crazy Hair day.
Her hair can be fairly crazy on a normal day.
However, I’ve got two boys with tight crew cuts.
Crazy Hair day and my boy’s hair doesn’t quite mix.
However, it’s been a few weeks since I last took the electric clippers to their hair, so we had a little to work with.
Last night, at dinner, Baby Monkey decided he wanted me to shave a mohawk in his hair.
It’s the best I could do with his hair as short as it was.
He had hoped for a crazy, punk-like mohawk, but based on the fact that he can’t stop looking at it in the mirror, I think he’s happy.
But then, he’s always happy.
So easy to please.
Then it was time to think about Monkey in the Middle.
He was NOT down with the mohawk.
He can barely tolerate a regular haircut.
A mid-season shave wasn’t going to happen.
So, we brainstormed.
He decided we should use hairspray and try to make it stick up as much as possible.
Except I don’t have hairspray.
I don’t have hairspray or mousse or gel or any other hair product, other than shampoo and conditioner.
And, apparently, this makes me mean.
Apparently, the reason I stopped using hair products, once I graduated from high school, is because someday, I knew I would have a 7 year old boy who would need hairspray for Crazy Hair day, and I wanted to be sure that he couldn’t participate.
Apparently, my lack of hairspray is a direct reflection of my lack of love for my 7 year old son.
Apparently, my low-maintenance cosmetic lifestyle means that I love one of my kids less than I love the other three.
At least, this is what Monkey in the Middle was telling me last night.
After some books and some cuddling, there were apologies (from him) and assurances that we’d figure something out (from me) and he slept.
Around 5:30 this morning, however, I woke to the uncanny feeling that someone was staring at me.
I opened my eyes to find Monkey in the Middle standing next to my side of the bed.
“So, what are we going to do with my hair?” he whispered.
And so it began again.
We tried using Monkey Girl’s detangler to see if it might dry hard and make his half a centimeter long strands of hair stand straight up, but to no avail.
By 6:00 am, I was online looking up homemade hairspray recipes and Googling things like “Will Jell-O powder stain the skin?” and “Food Coloring for Hair?”
We were both exasperated and frustrated and about ready to give up when I finally said, “How about stickers?”
He looked at me blankly.
“Why don’t we cover your hair in stickers? That’s kinda crazy, right?”
He loved it.
The stickers took hold of those little strands of hair and held on strong.
And so, while it may not have been the craziest hair of the day, it made him feel like a part of it all.
And we’re good.