While I love the look of a chubby faced toddler with an unkept mop, I could not take the unruly whispies.
I have tried to trim it up myself, but I run into two big obstacles. One, I have no idea what to do with hair once I have a pair of scissors in my hands. Two, this particular Bejos boy is not exactly compliant and easy going.
So, we left it up to the experts. With fair warning to the hair stylist, I took to the seat with the littlest Bejos on my lap.
He obviously quite enjoyed the experience.
Our routine doctor visits elicit the same calm and cooperative demanor, even when there is no talk of needles involved.
Stethoscope?
No thank you.
You want to look in my ears?
Good luck with that.
His first dental visit involved screams and cries until he was released from the chair. We aren't even sure they got a good glimpse of his teeth except during a few particularly open mouthed wails. Money well spent.
The stylist was tipped generously and the youngest Bejos was rewarded with a lollipop. Life is once again aligned....until those whispies grow back.
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