Story About Getting a Haircut for Kids
Almost no small child objects to a haircut on the grounds of how it will look. The objection is sensory and constitutional: a stranger with warm hands turning your head where they want it, a cold snipping sound very close to your ear, itching bits down the back of your collar, and a cape done up tight so you cannot get down. Nothing is being taken that they wanted to keep — hair grows, and they know it. What is being taken is jurisdiction over their own head, for twenty minutes, by people who did not ask.
Below is a complete story you can read aloud tonight, free — ideally the evening before. When you want the version with your own child’s name in it, that takes about thirty seconds to make.
Yusuf and the Chair That Was Too Big
A free story to read aloud tonight
The chair was too big and went up and down with a hiss, and the room smelled of green apples, and Yusuf sat on two cushions in front of a mirror the size of a door.
In the mirror, where the coat rack had been, there stood a large and thoughtful ram. “Marlow,” said the ram. “I am sheared every June by a man called Dennis. I would not describe it as my favourite Tuesday.”
“It’s the sound,” said Yusuf. “The little cold snips right by my ear. And the bits go down my back and itch, and the cape is done up tight, and I can’t get down.”
He thought for a moment and then said the truer thing underneath. “I don’t mind it short. I mind that nobody asked me.” Marlow chewed sideways and said that was a fair complaint, and that he had been making it himself, in his own way, for nine years.
So he told him about Dennis, who always says which side first, left or right, and waits for the answer. Yusuf looked at the person with the scissors and said, “This side first.” “Right you are,” said the person with the scissors, and did that side first — and the snipping was still horrible, and the bits still itched, and Yusuf stayed in the chair.
Later there was a bath to get the itchy bits off, and a towel, and a neck that felt oddly cold and light. The mirror at home showed someone with a shorter fringe and exactly the same face. And by the second page of the book his head was heavy on the pillow, and the bath and the ram and Dennis had all run together into one warm, apple-smelling nothing.
How do I get my toddler to sit still for a haircut?
Aim lower than still. Most of the trouble is sensory — the cape, the snipping near the ear, the itch afterwards — so remove what you can: a familiar chair, no cape if they hate it, a snack, a screen, a bath straight after. Ask for a quick cut rather than a good one. Two shortish attempts usually beat one long negotiation.
Is it normal for a child to cry through a haircut?
Very. Under about four it is closer to the rule than the exception, and it rarely has anything to do with how the hair looks. Being held still by a stranger while something cold and sharp moves near your head is a reasonable thing to object to. It tends to ease with familiarity — same person, same place, same order — rather than with persuasion.
Should I cut my child’s hair at home?
Home is quieter, cheaper and endlessly interruptible, which suits a child whose problem is the environment. A salon suits a child whose problem is you specifically — some will accept from a stranger what they will not accept from a parent. Neither is the correct answer. If one has gone badly three times running, it is worth trying the other.