The scene: Our dining room table.
The characters: Cody, age 3; Logan, age 1; the boys’ dad, Glen; and me.
The situation: Both boys had begun to sport the shaggy, scruffy look, warranting a quick, home-style trim performed by an amateur barber, me.
The background: Although I have plenty of experience snipping my own hair and the occasional trimming of the girls’ bangs, I am by no means a haircutting expert. In fact, my track record with scissors is very poor. When I went to kindergarten, my mom wrote in my baby book that I did well at everything. Everything but cutting, that is.
The story: The boys were seated at the table eating a snack. Since we had the most critical ingredient of a little kid’s haircut, distraction, it seemed like a good time to sneak in some trimming time, so I held the sharp haircutting scissors to what was fast becoming a sideburn by Logan’s ear. Choosing a less Elvis-like length, I clipped.
In the split second I closed the scissors, I knew something wasn’t right. The snip wasn’t fast and smooth like it should be; it was more like trying to cut through a gummy bear. And in that same second I realized, too late, what I had done. Sure enough, there, on the table, was a tiny piece of the tip of Logan’s left ear.
He began to cry. I began to cry. It wasn’t very long before he was back to eating his snack, but I remained tearful, horrified and ashamed. I had cut off part of my son’s ear, enough that there was visible evidence! This topped catching Andie’s skin in a zipper on her sleeper by a long way, which up until then had been my most shameful Mom moment.
Even though this incident occurred roughly four years ago, I still visibly cringe when I think about it. Fortunately, Logan has just the faintest of scars where I amputated the tip and no memory of the incident and I have since refused to wield scissors on anyone’s hair other than my own ever again.
Now if I can make it through the rest of the kids’ childhoods with The Snipped Ear Incident being the worst thing I’ve done, I guess I’ll be pretty grateful.
Do you have a Shameful Mom or Dad Moment?
I haven’t done that, but I did clip the tip of Nathan’s pinky the day I brought him home from the hospital. I felt so bad–as if he hadn’t been traumatized by birth already!
)
[...] For my first victim, I’ve chosen The Salad. Considering the lousy title of my blog, this seemed like a fitting place to start the series. I found this recipe at Parenting by Trial & Error, Sarah Ludwig’s heartfelt and amusing account of raising four children and accidentally mutilating them like Vincent van Gogh. [...]
[...] For my first victim, I’ve chosen “The Salad.” Considering the goofy title of my blog, this seemed like a fitting place to start the series. I found this recipe at Parenting by Trial & Error, Sarah Ludwig’s heartfelt and amusing account of raising four children and accidentally mutilating one of them like Vincent van Gogh. [...]