Traditionally, I have not gone home much for the holidays. During residency and early on in my medical practice I spent many holidays at the hospital. Now that I have children, some of that has gone out the window, so we decided to make the trip home to my mother’s for Thanksgiving. There are drawbacks. In the tradition of little old ladies everywhere, it is way too hot, also, NO HIGH SPEED INTERNET, or ANY internet for that matter. Bonuses include plentiful, delicious junk food, FREE Babysitting, and nostalgia.
On the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, my husband and I were taking advantage of the free babysitting by taking a nap. This is an absolute luxury available exclusively at the grandparent’s. Imagine my surprise when I woke up to discover that my mother had cut my 2 year old’s hair without consulting me. I mean she had casually mentioned beforehand that she thought she need a haircut, and I may have casually joked, “Good luck holding her down for that,” but I didn’t actually expect her to do it without me present. But, we were taking advantage of the free babysitting so I decided to bite my tongue.
The next day, Dr. Pepper arrives and greets my toddler with, “Oh, who’s a pretty girl? Did you get a new haircut Z?” I mutter something under my breath about mom cutting her hair while I was asleep without my consent, and suddenly with wide-eyed, maniacal glee, my brother turns on me cackling, “So HOW does it feel? How does it FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL?”
It took me a moment of thought to determine what he was referring to with such vigor. Suddenly I recalled an incident about three years ago, before my days of childbearing. Dr. Pepper was at work and left his precious, angel, Lucky in my care. Please see picture below to include crazy-laser eyes (he gets those from his daddy).
As you can see, Lucky looks like you took a Yorkie and supersized it. He has “bangs” falling into his eyes chronically and on this particular day, he kept running into my table, walls, doors, etc. because HE COULD NOT see. So, I took it upon myself to do a grooming which Dr. Pepper claims he undertakes regularly. It took a week, and a liter of industrial strength pipe cleaner to set my bathroom to rights after this grooming. I gently trimmed his bangs so that he could see, and Dr. Pepper went absolutely ballistic. He started screaming about how grooming his dog’s hair was akin to assault and how he would one day cut my future children’s hair without permission.
It was at this point that I pointed out that DOGS ARE NOT CHILDREN, much to the chagrin of my own personal Neurotic Beagle. I understand. I really do. I have been that childless individual over-fixated on my four legger. I still love the snot out of Neurotic Beagle, but the idea of someone grooming her not to my specifications does not fill me with the ire that the grooming of my toddler can inspire. I know that this was a moment of Karmic justice in the eyes of Dr. Pepper, but I maintain that DOGS ARE NOT CHILDREN.