Holding Back for a Haircut

Cameron got his hair cut today, by a woman who is apparently unfamiliar with typical childhood development.  "How old are you?"  she asked Cameron as he hopped up on the seat.

"I'm six.  Almost seven!"

"Well, you are sooooo handsome!  Such a handsome widdle guy!  I'm going to cut your hair with this funny little tickle-buzz-buzz!"

Cameron gave me a quizzical look in the mirror and I shrugged.

"Can you look at you tummy-tum? Can you close your eyes like you're soooooo sleepy, it's time for beddy-bye?" she simpered at him throughout the haircut.

When we walked out, Cameron's hair very nicely cut but his manly pride wounded, I said, "Cameron, thank you for being polite.  I don't think she understood how big six year olds are."

"Yeah!" he said.  "And she was rough with that comb.  I felt like saying to her, 'Hey lady, that's my head!  And it's got nerves in it and a BRAIN inside it!"

I am deeply relieved that he had the self-control NOT to say that!