Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

Why does little boy hair look just fine, just fine, just fine, then suddenly loses all control and looks like a tribble from the original Star Trek?

And why does it always happen on picture day?

Today is picture day at school. And my boys' hair looked like this:

 And like this:

 I knew last night was my last chance to do something about it before school today, so I sent Hyrum upstairs for my clippers and scissors as I positioned the chair near an outlet on the easily swept wood floor. He grabbed a pool towel (best coverage of bare chests, arms, and legs), got as comfortable as he could on a hard chair wrapped in a towel, and I turned on the clippers.

Nothing.

Are you serious?

Now what?

Brad brought down the groomer he bought last fall when he grew out his beard (cutting of the beard post here), and I attempted to cut thick, overgrown heads of hair with a not-completely-charged rechargeable beard trimmer.

It took almost 20 minutes per head, but we reached an acceptable level of completion.

 This morning was filled with "Who's shirt is this?" "That's MY shirt!" "Which shoes should I wear?" "Do these shorts match?" "Can I wear my silver bow?" curling irons and steam irons, gel, mousse, and hair spray. Throw in a 7 am orthodontist appointment for Micah, two sessions of piano practice, scripture reading and family prayer, scrambled eggs and toast, and four filled lunch boxes.

That was our morning.

I know the school's photographer won't see what I did this morning before 7:30.

Whew. Glad that's not our routine every morning!