My two babes

We got a camera today.

He came out swinging

Round two. He came out swinging. Since my wife accused Theo of being Jewish – well, she said ‘He looks like a Jew’ – with two long strands of hair on each side of his head, I decided to pick up the gloves again. I just wanted to end standing up.
The good is his hair is pretty much cut; the bad is he just doesn’t like it; the ugly is – gone. It got pretty tough though, but with unorthodox methods, Theo lost focus. Which is to say, at one point (between rounds) I helped Theo blow his nose, which is a story in and of itself, and then he would place the tissue in the toilet. Oh, did I mention he was between the toilet and the wall; he refused to come to the center of the ring. So when I started my attack again, he would flail, then slam the toilet lid down, then slam it up. I took advantage of this distraction to get some good cuts in, but I had to watch out for the lid. And I thought the toilet tank lid might break.
Finally, the battle is over and Theo got a nice long shower with a stiff drink of almond milk after – in a dirty glass.

Two cats boxing

Well, it finally happened. I trapped Theo in the bathroom and combed his hair with a brush. It was pretty easy to do, so it made me think that I could do the same with the clippers. Since the Veet didn’t work I needed to resort to the old fashion way.
So I set up the bathroom first and then got Theo. I carried him in. He knew the gig was up. ‘Which gig is it.’ he thought. No more looking like Johnny Winter gig.
So I sat him on the commode and started shearing. He moved to the floor and I said ‘That’s okay, can’t get any lower.’ Then the flailing was on – like a windmill. Soon after he discovered the cord and would pull it away from him. But the buzz saw just kept coming. Then Theo discovered pulling the cord out of the receptacle.
A couple of times I stopped so he could gain his composure. But we kept up the dance until he had had enough. We looked like two cats boxing. Man, he looks bad, but I feel good. Now to keep up the work until a public viewing.

Win one for the clipper

I recently bought new hair clippers because I needed them and in my quest to cut Theo’s hair. I figured I would introduce the clippers to Theo. So when we are hanging out in the bathroom I get them out and let him hold them. I turn them on and hand them to him. Well it didn’t take long for him to take over. He grabbed them and started for Spongebob on the vanity. He started cutting Spongebob’s hair on his head. I didn’t see it, but I guess Spongebob has hair on his knuckles; including many other places. Theo’s keen eye noticed the hair though and he cut hair everywhere. Now if I can just get Theo to get the log out of his own eye.

Haircut

The first night of the Hair Cutting was pretty uneventful.  Go in, cut as much hair as possible, and then extract the team.  Not too bad.  However, every slice of the scissors Theo repositions his head.  I have to be as agile as Johnny Dep (at least I look better).  So it seemed like I cut a ton of hair, but in the morning light I could hardly tell.  Man, he has got a lot of hair.

During the day before the second night Theo must have planned a counter offensive.  Because that night, every cut he moved his head then rubbed it with his hands.  So with very little cut, I retreated.  Next thing I know the hall light comes on.  He’s up and he’s not going to take it anymore.  So I lay down with him as he drifts off with half a smile.  For some reason, unknown to rationale men, I decide to trim more when Theo is asleep again.  Well it ends up worse then the previous shearing and I escape.  Again, the hall light shatters my rest.  I put him back in bed – but it doesn’t end there.  Later I awake to see him at my bed side hair and all – all over his shirt.  I rip his shirt off and put him in bed with us for an excruciating night of the worse kind of sleep – a seventy pound boy snuggling right up against me as I teeter on the edge of the mattress.  Theo exacts revenge.  He doesn’t get even; he gets ahead.

Unfortunately, the third night Theo was in a funk, I guess because Holly and I were out, so I didn’t bother him.  Now I have got a fine mess on my hands.  I could stop and see if the style catches on.  It could become all the rage.  Yeah, that’s the ticket.  I don’t want to go on, but I can’t stop.  Hair cuts are Gehenna!  Hey, I should study Delilah.  I know, I’ll order the book, Bad Women of the Bible.  Maybe Theo should take a Nazarite vow?!  Argh.

I can’t wait for church Sunday.  I can see it now.  ‘Nice hair cut Theo.’  I mutter curses under my breath like Browning’s Siliquoy of the Spanish Cloister.  Yeah, that’s the way to worship.

Got to go, Holly is asking for her scissors.  I bet Theo hid them.

Haircut

Now that I have finally uploaded a picture of Theo, I should probably write about haircuts.  It shouldn’t take long since he has had very few in his lifetime.  Giving Theo a haircut is akin to placing my hand over your mouth and nose.  Or better yet, it is like dunking you under water with the clear intention of keeping you there.  The reaction would be dramatic.  There is something about a pair of scissors that strikes unmitigated terror in the heart of this child.  He puts the bride of Frankenstein to shame.  Better yet, turn on some clippers within ten yards of his hair covered ears and watch him clamor for safety.  The last time I placed clippers on his head it so traumatized the whole family we had to freebase percocet – don’t worry we shared with Theo.

This anti-scissor obsession seems to be a pattern among Down Syndrome folks.  Next time you see a DS fellow try a test, just place your hand on his little head and give him a good rubbing – just see what happens.  On second thought, don’t.  Two reasons:  the first being it will irritate him mildly or send him into an apocalyptical panic in which you will be arrested for DS harassment.  The second ends in arrest too.

I would tell you about the horrific episode of the Last Haircut, but my family has sworn me to secrecy.  So it forever remains a mysterious secret in the annuls of the unknown.  I should write a book that becomes a movie then, give tours of the dreaded room.

However, there is one way, and one way only, that Theo’s hair can be cut – when he is unconscious.  And since that has not happened (although if we make a trip to ER . . .) I think I will try the next best thing.  When he is asleep.  REM sleep.  Down deep sleep.  The kind of sleep you see in America’s Funniest Home Videos.  When dear friends spray shaving cream on the sleeper’s head.

This week I am attempting the impossible.  In the dark of night, I will cut Theo’s hair by the light of the moon.  That is, until he wakes up in his worst nightmare.