and sometimes they just flip out

Garrett is a sweet, sweet boy. I don't see why any of you have reason to doubt that fact since I tend to primarily promote his charming personality on this blog. And since he's lately become a cute little copy-cat, his hugs have become all the more endearing.

You know how you have that natural tendency, intensified by a small head nestling into your shoulder, to pat a child's back when you pick them up and hold them close? Well, Copy-Cat Garrett, his head nestled snugly in my shoulder and one arm clung tightly to my neck, has lately started patting me on the back. I love hugging that boy - always have, and I'm sure I always will - but the second those hugs are returned, I pretty much melt into a wishy-washy, happy little puddle.

But you all know, I'm sure, that he isn't always an angel baby sent straight from heaven. Oh, he has his days. Especially lately, owing, I'm assuming, to the fact that in the last week and a half he's sprouted three more teeth. That, and he's also growing up, which can sometimes be frustrating. For example, he has decided to refuse any and all pureed foods (unless it's rice cereal with mashed bananas...he can't get enough of those!). As soon as I bring a spoonful of strained sweet potatoes to his lips, his hand, quick as lightning, flicks it away. A backhand like his might one day lead to a successful tennis career! No, he wants "big boy" food, or "whatever Mom and Dad are eating." Okay. Fine. I found these adorable utensil sets from Gerber that made it easier to fork-feed him small bites of "real" food. And now he's happy, we're happy, life is good.

Except for last week, when I went in to get a quick haircut. I took Garrett with me as I always do. He's never been anything but patient as he sits in his stroller and watches me. Only this time, just as I was nearing the end of my shampoo, he pulls out his sad, pouty lips and quickly progresses to a full-blown fit. It took me about ten minutes to calm him down, and even then he'd only stop crying if he was sitting on my lap. Okay. Fine. I convinced my stylist to let him stay there and while she snipped away, I focused my attentions on keeping Garrett still and happy. Which meant I couldn't as meticulously watch the way she was cutting my hair...but whatever, right? So long as Garrett wasn't crying.

But then she pulled out the blow dryer. I like to get my hair dried after a trim because it's easier to check afterwards for spots that need to be evened up. Plus, it's nice to have it done professionally every once in a while. Now, Garrett has watched me blow dry my hair nearly every day of his short life. And it's never been a problem. Only now it suddenly was. The blow dryer had been on for all of 30 seconds before Garrett started to flip out. Off went the dryer and on went my attempts at every trick I could think of to calm him down and assure him that he didn't need to be scared. But my work was in vain, for every time my stylist started again to dry my hair, Garrett would freak out and start screaming. We went back and forth, blow dryer to scream-fest, for about 20 minutes before I, apologizing for the umpteenth time, decided to just forget the blow dry, paid, and went home.

Back in front of my own bathroom mirror, I gave my trim a once-over. It didn't take long to find the effects of my not being able to keep a meticulous eye on how my hair was cut. Because my hair wasn't parted right during the trim, I was left, when I went to part it how I normally do, with chunks two inches long drooping down below the rest of my hair. I assure you, I almost flipped out just like my son did! Luckily, though, between Blake and I, we're pretty handy with the scissors and, I must say, we cleaned that mess up quite nicely.

So anyway. Garrett's a cute little keeper for sure, but even he has his days. It's nice, though, that at the end of those long, hard days, we have our hugs to look forward to.