That's not what I asked for!

Seeger and I went to get our hair cut over the weekend. I was due for a regular trim and after cutting his hair myself that last few times, I thought it would be better to go to a professional who knew what she was doing and could even things up a bit.

Let's review. Here is a before picture of him. See, it's long on the neck and his bangs are starting to get in his eyes. (This was taken the night before.)

So we go to the hair-cutting-chain-who-won't-be-named and one stylist starts my cut. The other asks me what I want for Seeger so she can start his. I explain, rather clearly I believe, that I want it trimmed. "I want it off his neck, out of his eyes, and a trim all around."

Apparently, a trim to this particular stylist (and I use that term lightly) means she can go ahead and CUT OFF THREE INCHES. She was nearly done before I even realized his hair was gone. Mike and Nicklas came to pick us up as Seeger was still in the chair. They both looked around the place and said, "Where's Seeger?" That's right, neither recognized him.

And here is Seeger after his haircut.

Trim = Three inches.

Lesson learned.