Samson Shorn

21 01 2009


For the last several months we’ve been noticing with quiet alarm that Hugo’s hair was becoming quite unruly. His wild mop of stringy hair was shooting out in all directions (often scuplted with the aid of pesto sauce, oatmeal, mango, or whatever substance he happened to smear in it). When we asked friends if he needed a haircut we would hear “um, it’s getting a little long…” (though Sandra noted that he resembled a toupee-ed man).

Here he is in a recent shaggy shot with his grandpa.
With Grandpa

Long, eh? Although I’d been planning to bring him to my barber, the venerable Larry, at Arcade, the ancient Financial District barbershop I’ve been patronizing for years, the family was all home on Monday and we decided to bring him ’round to the kid-centric hair cuttery around the corner.
Pre-First Haircut Snack

The visit started well enough. While we waited, Hugo got to play with the shop’s extensive collection of toy cars (his latest obsession). Finally, it was our turn. The fact that his chair was surrounded by a red car seemed auspicious. Unfortunately, once the penguin cape was placed on him, Hugo started to freak. out. The whole haircut lasted maybe five minutes –the longest five minutes of his young life, perhaps. The stylist was gentle and careful, and Sacha and his aunt Sarah were furiously plying him with toys and these funny Japanese cookies we found on Clement Street. Finally, the last lock was snipped, and I was able to pick up my sniffling, tear-soaked boy.

He got over the trauma pretty quickly (as he always does), and is the same boy as before, just a bit more presentable.
Fully Recovered