This weekend was action-packed. We went to see my parents so Evan could hang with Grandma and Grandpa. Success. He was happy wandering around their house, doing laps from the kitchen to the living room and back like he loves to. But yesterday Dr. Jekyll showed a little Mr. Hyde (or is it the other way around?). We took him for his second haircut ever, and he screamed bloody murder. Which was weird, because at his first haircut he had a grand old time. Then we made nice by taking him to the park so he could go on the swings. All was forgiven.
At this point he has definitely developed preferences and whatever the opposite of preferences are. Here is the current scorecard of various activities and Evan’s reaction to them:
Sippy cup with milk? Um, not so much.
Haircut? VERY VERY BAD.
Being carried? Bad.
Walking around the house with the remote control? Good.
When Mommy takes the remote control away? GOD HELP US.
Shots? See “When Mommy takes the remote control away” above.
Apparently, the era of the docile, agreeable baby is gone for good. Don’t get me wrong, he is a great kid. He just knows what he wants, and a haircut ain’t it.