I think Grandad would be a decent mix of jealous and scoffing right now. Jealous because Sam got to sit in a super cool red aeroplane and be fussed over by a nice lady today, and scoffing because it involved Sam getting his hair cut, and as we all know Grandad is Samson and does not like to have his thatch messed with.
Sam was beginning to disappear beneath his mop of super straight hair so with a trip to England to spruce up for, and the Summer heat beating down, it was definitely time for him to get the chop again today. As much as I loved Sam’s long couldn’t care less locks we’re heading to the beach this weekend and Bill and I felt that he’d be much more comfortable camping with less insulation on his barnet. Bea and I took him over to the children’s salon in Cotswold and remembered to bring the camera to document this time.
But you are probably thinking that the title of this post refers to the Sam I no longer recognise as a result of his barber visit. In part. But mostly I am wondering where on earth my delightful, awesome, potty trained boy to be proud of has gone. After many many months of total potty perfection he is suddenly letting me down again. I have no idea why.
I asked him before we left if he needed to use the potty, and was sternly told “No, I don’t need to use the potty Mummy.” It’s a little ten minute drive to Cotswold and we went straight into the salon. Sam headed for the train table at the back of the store while we waited for a stylist to be free. I wandered over to double check whether he needed the bathroom and was horrified to find him happily stood in a large puddle. No worries on his face at all, perfectly happy to be wading around in pee and have wet shorts and pants on!
This was a nightmare scenario for me. I’ve long since stopped carrying around any change of garments for Master Samuel. Haven’t needed any. So here we are, waiting to get Sam’s haircut and he has ruined his clothes and I have no spares. Nothing on me except…one of Bea’s spare nappies. Well okay. Nothing else for it but to strip him down, while streaming out profuse apologies to the staff about the mess, and try Bea’s nappy on for size. I was thinking it might at least act to protect his dignity long enough for us to nip next door to Marshall’s and buy some new togs as I had also planned a shopping trip and having got out of the house wasn’t too happy about going straight back again. With Bea strapped to my front I struggled to tear Sam away from his puddle and into the privacy of the bathroom where I pulled out Bea’s beautiful girly pink size small Fuzzi Bunz (thank you Bonnie!) and wrestled it onto the boy amidst cries of “I’m not a baby!”
Sorry Sam, if you are going to pee in your pants and act like a baby then I’m going to have to treat you like one!
I was so surprised and relieved when the nappy actually fastened and fit around my little boy! He looked a right ninny but that was the price he was going to have to pay (over and over again when I tell all future prospective girlfriends)!
It hasn’t just been today though. The other day when we were swimming at a friend’s community pool and he totally stunned and embarrassed me once more. I was feeding Baby Bea and he suddenly stopped splashing around merrily to tell me that he needed to go poop poop. I stopped everything and told him to get out of the pool. He did, took a few steps away from the side as he made his way to the gate and I watched in slow motion horror as dollops of poop slid out from his shorts and hit the floor.
That was fun.
We were sat at the table eating dinner this evening when Sam went to wash his hands halfway through the meal. He came back and gave me a lovely hug, except he felt a tad soggy. I checked and lo and behold … wet pants. We checked his seat cushion…sopping wet! (I give myself a big pat on the back here for getting around to covering the cushion with Bob the Builder fabric and actually cunningly lining it with waterproof sheeting!)
Grandad saw me get more unexpected soggy Sam hugs and then discover a puddle in the front room while on webcam this afternoon. I made Sam get the mop out and clean that one up himself. I’m not sure that worked out so well though as he is excited by cleaning and enjoyed being allowed to mop up!
What is going on?! Where has my potty trained child gone and when will he come back? I’m getting worried and exasperated here.
Okay, back to the hair cut. I would like Sam to have a fairly shaggy unkempt hair cut but with more shape to the back of his head. The cut he got was a little too *something* for my liking, and it’s weird that I really don’t recognise my son with his hair like that, but Bill assures me he will grow into the cut nicely.
The cut itself was also a trial and Sam required numerous lollipops and cajoling to stay in the seat. He was totally freaking out by the end and had to be held down to neaten up the last few spots. Still, beats the tantrum and tears we got for his first cut. He’s less noisy and tearful now, but bigger and harder to pin down! He still had to clutch his favourite trains tightly throughout the ordeal.
I do like it, he looks good.