My wife has wanted TC to cut her hair so she invites us over for Saturday night. Cut hair, have a drink, fix a little dinner and off you go. Curious cat that TC is, he’s up for it but I get a lecture on how he doesn’t want to stay too long least he gets nervous.
We arrive shortly before 5 p.m. and enter the premises. I have household repairs to affect and leave TC and my wife to their own, disappearing elsewhere. I reemerge to find the two of them drinking a glass of wine, music blaring away and TC cutting her hair with a magazine photo of how she wants it to look. I get a glare from my 26 yo boyfriend and 47 year old wife, obviously doing hair is a private affair and I’m not needed.
I retire to the garage, my safe haven. Returning a while later, my wife is beaming and asked the question that generally starts most arguments, “how do you like my hair?”. I’m proud, she looks exactly like the model in the magazine. Another glass of wine is poured.
My youngest son emerges, long thick blonde hair hides his eyes, he looks like Cousin It from the Adams Family. Well, he wants TC to do his hair. This is a major signal, he’s been the most resistant to TC and his mother’s acceptance has finally won him over. With strict instructions to thin and not take any length off, he climbs up in the chair.
I go back to the garage. Much safer. All I need is a couch and a little frig and I’m good in there for a couple of days.
I return and TC has my son’s hair all up in various hair clips, snipping away at the underside of the mane. Oh god. I disappear again to my work room (better tools and warmer). Popping out a while later, TC has a flat iron out straightening his hair. But like anyone who touches another person (doctor, massage), TC has a soft patter going talking to my son about ‘things’ and they seem engaged in conversation.
The work is complete and while he still has long hair, it actually looks quite good. He looks like one of those kids on the Disney Channel now. My son, having been on the surface for too long, sinks quickly back into his pit. TC comments that my son is quite proud of his hair, having had to go to the bathroom to check it out immediately. TC fathomed that a new Facebook profile photo was in the making. And sure enough, 30 minutes later a new one is posted.
Dinner is served, my wife has laid out a quite a spread. Both of them keep drinking. Talking and laughing, with me being a common subject. “Is he still doing …?”, my wife asks. “Oh, yes, did it drive you crazy?” “Oh, yes, all the time”. “I know I though that it was me, but he’s so weird about somethings”. Great, I’m running out of rooms to hide in. Dinner ends and the drinking continues, now into the living room to listen to music. I continue to mill about the house.
At 11.30 p.m. I proclaim that the evening is now officially over, party pooper that I am. Both of them are fully tanked up 2 bottles of wine between them. I deflate TC and shove him into a bag, thank my wife for the nice evening and home we ride listening to TC complain about how he wanted to stay.
And that was my Saturday night.