We have a bit of a situation.
The kid hates certain loud noises.
He’s a cool cat with a screaming siren.
He doesn’t seem to mind the racket of stainless steel mixing bowls being heaved down a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
And if you crank up some really bad 80’s hair band to a level that threatens to cause your ears to bleed, he actually starts dancing.
The noises he seems to hate involve anything that could possibly benefit me in any way.
He hates the vacuum, the blow dryer, the stand mixer, the can opener, the immersion blender. . .and – as we discovered last night – Daddy’s hair clippers.
I haven’t vacuumed our house in two weeks. I’ve been sneaking around with a stupid broom and dustpan and I can tell you my skin is crawling just thinking about all the pet hair and Goldfish crackers lurking under the furniture. Come to think of it, this could explain why my Husband said he saw some ants in our basement a few days ago? (I was blaming the wet weather and maybe the neighbors’ moving.)
I desperately want a chocolate chip cookie but I’ve settled for rice krispie treats and crappy Halloween candy because I can’t operate the stand mixer without the kid having a complete breakdown.
Now it used to be I could wait for nap time and fire up these noisy contraptions and let ‘er rip. Not any longer. They get him awake. In a panic. And I feel terrible about it.
Chris needed a hair cut. He keeps his hair really short and it takes about 10 minutes or so for me to just run the clippers over his entire head and clean up everything with a pair of scissors.
This past weekend involved a lot of running around and last evening when we got home, we were all pretty tired. So after dinner I suggested we all go upstairs, Mac could run around and play in his room while I cut Chris’ hair in the bathroom.
But the minute I turned on the clippers, poor Mac went bonkers. We tried reassuring him while I hastily zoomed the things over half of Chris’ head. But Mac’s panic escalated. The poor kid was full-on flipping out.
I took him to his room and offered him a favorite blanket and tried to calm him. But as soon as I fired up the clippers again, Mac was standing at a healthy distance staring and screaming at an octave that certainly doesn’t register on any scale known to the civilized world.
Chris then proceeded to try his hand at calming him. . .by handing over his iPhone. And not even THAT worked.
Chris clearly couldn’t walk around with 3/4 of a hair cut so we had no other option but to continue as quickly as possible and watch guiltily as Mac stood in the doorway suffering from a massive meltdown.
When we finished, I put the clippers on the edge of the sink and we both rushed to comfort the poor kid, who was nearly inconsolable at this point. I was actually a little concerned he was so worked up he might toss up his dinner.
Typically, Mac is pretty easy to calm. But this time, it was taking a while. And that’s when I realized he couldn’t even stand the sight of the clippers!
I ushered him into this bedroom while Chris put them away. And when we emerged, I couldn’t believe the wary glances he kept giving the bathroom sink. . .He looked and looked and looked for that evil humming bastard!
Of course then I somewhat selfishly started worrying this episode might have been so traumatic he would be afraid to go to bed alone. Fortunately, that didn’t happen and Mac seemed to feel better once the offending appliance was hidden from sight.
But I’m wondering. . .how long does this last? I really can’t go much longer without busting out the vacuum. . .