Days with Tom #2. Fantastic Day, by Haircut 1.

Hello Tom.

Well Wednesday 25/04/12 was pretty cool.

It started, as mornings usually do, with a bit of sofa time. Because daddy needs a while to gather himself before the day ahead. This is not a eupehmism for hungover. Honest.

It wasn’t unproductive, though. We got to look at mummy’s bra catalogue, which you found incredibly funny.

“Hahahahahaha! Babies drink from these! Hahahahahaha! Stupid babies!”

Later, when daddy managed to unpeel himself from the sofa (after Octonauts, naturally) we got dressed. For today there was to be no slobbing. Oh no. Today was haircut day.

Now you’ve had your hair cut before. It was a while back and our tactic was, to paraphrase a fellow parent, “to sneak up on you while watching CBeebies and lop chunks off”. (Her name is Elizabeth, she’s very funny and if you’re on The Twitter, you can follow her here.)

But this time it was to be a professional job. We went to a place called Lotolie in Walthamstow Village. Your behaviour was impeccable.

“Yeah, just a bit off the top, tidy up the back & sides. No gel.”

“Off anywhere nice for your holidays?”
“Well we might go to the park later.”

“Yeah, lovely. Good job. Bit more off the fringe maybe?”

Your haircut cost six quid. Now, I pay that for my haircut, but I don’t get toy cars to play with.

Afterwards, we did lunch. Because lunch is what daddy does. Even on his day off.

We went to a lovely place called Eat 17 (see what they did there?). You were unsure what to order.

Like the Sugarcubes said. “Eat the menu.”

In the end, you plumped for the macaroni cheese, accompanied by a cheeky apple juice (Del Monte ’99 unless I’m very much mistaken). Daddy had Merguez and Malbec. Don’t tell mummy.

Sadly we got rained in, so we had to have afters. I never knew such a small baby could consume so much ice cream. I had a chocolate brownie (well, what little I could rescue from your gaping maw).

“Mmm. I’m Michael Winner baby and that was delicious. Pay the lady, old man.”

Replete, we headed home.

When we got back, daddy inexplicably felt like a snooze. Luckily, so did you.

Sleep tight son.

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