Foraging and Bad Haircuts

My boy learns quickly.  On his regular wagon rides around the yard and garden, in which he thrusts his arm forward like a Roman charioteer, we often stop to pick fresh strawberries.  Now when I put him down to roam free he wanders over to the strawberry patch, fans his fingers through the leaves in search of ripe berries, then plucks the best ones off and eats them.  Though I try to wash off the dust and slug trails he usually eats them before I can play Nervous Nellie, so he’s building up his immune system.  More importantly, he’s learning that the garden is a place to find food and nothing, nothing, tastes like a fresh strawberry.

Number two foraging

Okay, okay, let’s talk about his haircut.  I trimmed his hair last week with the clippers, just the sides and back.  That was challenging enough, as he constantly twisted and squirmed to get down, and his hair is like gossamer that dodges the clipper gates and shows every single mistake.  It was like shearing a sheep on the run.  Then I figured I’d trim his bangs a little since they were almost at his eyes.  I’ll try to explain that I was cutting his bangs as I held him in front of me and was leaning over upside-down and trying to cut a straight line and not skewer his eyeball with the scissors.  As a result I *may* have taken a bit too much off.  Now he looks like a medieval monk or someone recently returned from lobotomy surgery.  I think the required accessories for this haircut are orthopedic pants and a crash helmet.  My wife was, after a mandatory cooling-down period, displeased with my barbering skills.  I still think I can handle the clipper cuts but may leave his bangs alone for now.  Learn from my mistakes!

Number two foraging 2

Writer, architect, father, husband.

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