The boys needed hair cuts, and so the struggling began. Before I begin, you might want to know how Wife started the proceedings.
First on her mind was containment. Little boy hair is flighty and sticks to every thing. To avoid clumps of blonde hair gathering in corners, Wife piled the boys into the tub. That way the hair can be captured like a herd of dust bunnies.
Second, Wife strips them down to the bare minimum that God blessed them with. Two items are accomplished by that. If the clothes are clean they can be redressed; and if they are dirty (which is more than likely) we avoid artificial hair balls in the dryer.
Now, let the struggling begin. Out came the “buzzers.” I wish I could state that one or more of the boys stood still, like soldiers at attention. Alas, that was not the case. They writhed and wriggled like worms on a hook. When the buzzers ran this way, they would twist that. As their hair was trimmed up, they would squirm down. Back and forth, up and down, hold and resist was the battle between Wife and the boys.
I admit, to say that it was a battle would be an exaggeration. She corralled and handled them as well as a rancher shaving his sheep. While there may have been discomfort, it was all on one side and for their own good. While it was all for their own good, like the sheep they just don’t seem to understand.