It was bound to happen sooner or later

Let me begin this post with a recent picture of Benjamin.  It was taken a few months ago, but serves the purpose well.

Now to the story.  Yesterday, while I was at work, the boys were off school and home with John.  As is the usual routine, after lunch, they went upstairs to take their naps.  Having settled down in their beds, John went about his business.  Later, going to check on them, instead of the sounds of mouth breathers, he hears hushed whispers coming from the bathroom.  Turning the corner, he finds two little boys, one with scissors in hand and the other missing considerable amounts of hair.  Joshy had managed to find the shearing scissors in the cabinet above the toilet and Benjamin was getting the full barbershop treatment.  And John didn't catch them after simply a trimmed bang, no Ben was sporting full on monk.  All my baby boy's curls were gone, hair cut to the scalp excepting along the edges.  Hence the monk-esque feel.  John calls me at work, ducking in the bathroom so Joshy doesn't hear him talking in a hushed whisper, and through a voice, strained by resisting laughs, explained how my eldest had cut my youngest's hair and that it looked horrible.  And, in fact, the pictures that I am about to attach, do not do it justice.  When seeing it live, half the back long, half in patches, it was almost painful to look at.  A walking billboard for "my parents don't love me".  Even now, I can't help but laugh because it literally looked like he had stuck his hand in a light socket or perhaps half his head contracted mange.  Joshy, of course, said that he was trying to help Ben, and while I am sure there was some truth buried in the attestment of good intentions, when we offered to give him the same haircut as Ben, he wasn't quite as certain about how good Ben's hair looked after all.  It was more like a drawn out "no" as both hands clutched his hair. 

That brings us to today, when mama went to Target to get a hair trimming kit to finish what Joshua Reuben started.  Benjamin was actually quite a good customer, wiggling far less than his older sibling is prone to do and shedding no tears through the process.  About half way through trying to make something of the monk do, Joshy was insistent that he, too, needed a haircut and then soon John was in line, as well.  So, mama cut three boys hair today.  One because he couldn't be seen in public, one because he can't have his brother get anything he doesn't get also and one because if I am doling out haircuts, might as well tame the fro.  During Joshy's cut, as I reached the top of his head and turned him about to face me, I asked, "Joshua, Did you cut your own hair also?".  Right smack dab in the middle of his hairline, an entire chunk of hair was missing.  Not shorter, missing to the scalp.  He insists no, and then I touch his scalp and remind him that I can see where the hair is gone.  Out comes the admission.  Thank goodness he didn't keep going because I would have had to completely buzz it and Marcellus boys do not look good bald.  They look like Timothy McVeigh.  A bad experience with John and "a 3 all over" taught me that.  Still, as they say, all's well that ends well, and I would say it ended decently well.  Three trimmed boys, gelling Ben's new big boy haircut as he and Joshy chant over and over, "We will not cut each others hair."

(They had just finished eating their popsicles, hence the red face, and were apparently cold, hence the floating heads.)