Just when I was beginning to wonder what I was going to post (material has been lacking), the universe dropped this little gem into my lap.
The plan for this afternoon was simple: Pick my son up. Take him to get a hair cut at Great Clips. Procure fast food. Grab a few things from the grocery store.
…oh, Amber. Little did you know what traumatizing excitement awaited you.
I did manage to pick my child up from his father. Step one smoothly executed.
So the kid and I make it to our first joint stop: Great Clips. There was a time when my son was all about long, biker hair. Now he likes to keep it short. Super short. Not quite bald but no comb required.
The man child is incredibly low maintenance, for which I am grateful.
There was only one person ahead of us- no big deal. I felt bad we came in during their last hour but with my work schedule/commute, Sundays are usually the only days I can take him in. Unless the planets have aligned in my favor and his hair needs trimmed on a weekend I have him- then I don’t have to be the last minute asshole.
Soon it was my son’s turn. The stylist did her thing. Before I knew it, he was a few ounces lighter- the floor littered with small bits of his hair.
We all shifted to the counter to complete the transaction WHEN IT HAPPENED.
…MY KID’S NOSE BEGAN TO BLEED.
I’m standing there, mortified and in shock, also wondering why the fuck he’s trying to blow his nose when his nose was obviously super pissed off.
The stylist told him they had a bathroom towards the back- he headed right for it.
After a few minutes, I became concerned…and it was about closing time. I didn’t want to be the potential lone reason the stylist was stuck late at work. I went to the bathroom to check on the boy.
He opened the door- IT LOOKED LIKE A SMALL ANIMAL HAD BEEN MASSACRED IN THE FUCKING BATHROOM SINK!
As a parent, I was concerned because it was my son’s blood in this sink- along with a few spots on the wall. As someone who has worked in healthcare since 2014, THERE WAS FUCKING BLOOD IN THE SINK AND ON THE WALL!
I popped out to ask the stylist if they had bathroom cleaner- fortunately, there was bleach. No way was I going to expect her to clean up the mess my kid made. No way was I having him do it because he was still bleeding.
And frankly, I didn’t trust him to do a thorough job.
Half a package of paper towels, an overly bleached bathroom sink/wall, trash tightly secured, and fifteen apologies later, we were out the door.
…with some extra paper towels in my purse.
We were able to grab supper, but grocery shopping was going to have to wait. After that fucking mess, I just wanted to get my kid home- for fear of round two.
I texted his dad- I mean, I kind of found the situation funny after it was over. His father, however, did not find it amusing. He was a concerned Papa Bear. Probably shouldn’t have told him it looked like a small animal had been murdered in the sink. You’d think he’d realize I MAY have been a tad dramatic. But there was a decent amount of blood, to be fair.
…but at least I refrained from making some sort of inappropriate cocaine joke, which did cross my mind.
He wouldn’t have found that funny, either.
(It would have been hilarious, though)
More posts to come!