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Ear Cut:: 27th June 2004

I have never been good with the scissors…never. Not in school, not now. I have never been able to cut out the shapes like the teacher wanted me to in school and never endeavored to be a hair-dresser….unlike my husband.

My husband, with his thin and artistic fingers, seems to be the kind of person with a lot of dexterity when it comes to using his fingers. He was good at creating shadows on the walls, doing magic (he's really amazing with cards, let me tell you this) and also cutting long hair for the kids.

Essentially, this is what this article is about. My husband cutting hair for our kids.

I was upstairs, having a conversation with a friend over the Internet. I was showing him (my friend) how I hold online voice conferences with my clients from halfway around the world. How we've never met each other before in our lives and yet are familiar with the way each other works.

Daddy came home after a long spell in Melaka working and he saw that I have not touched my kids' hair. That's because he complains about it after I cut the hair. Ok, I am a bad hair-cutter but he was the one who volunteered to be the family hairdresser, right? So, while I was having that conversation, he undressed the kids buck naked outside on the lawn and started cutting their hair.

I was not to interrupt the entire process. Daddy was confident with his skill. I have to admit the results are much more pleasing than whatever it is that I can produce.

Then in the middle of showing my friend the conference room features, I heard my husband swing the door(the downstairs door is really loud) cause I had my doorin case my husband hollers for me to get the shaver for the back of the head, like he always does. But this time, he doesn't call for me. He called for 'kakak'.

I heard 'kakak' and then he called his mother. I didn't hear anything else cause I thought he was trying to get them to fetch him something. My husband has temporary lameness disease whenever he is doing something. Everyone has to be at his beck and call…like those surgeons in the operating room. I can almost see him there, bending over a body of an unconscious patient, in a white robe, shouting into the ears of the assistance "Scalpel, you mutt head!!"

So, he was shouting downstairs, it's a normal occurrence, so, I ignored the shouting. Then the words, "I cut his ear" drifted into my ears and it hit me. My husband accidentally cut my son's ear? You're kidding.

Being a dreamer and positive thinker, I decided not to believe it. I told my friend on the other line to hang on while I listened for Joshua's cries. He has a loud cry and I can't miss it even if I wanted to. There wasn't anything…oh, I had the headphones over my ears.

I lifted the headphones and there it was! He was bawling like mad!!

At this point in time, my husband burst into the room, "Marsh, go downstairs and comfort your son, please! I just cut his ears off! I just cut his ears, Marsh!". His eyes were wide, breathing labored, sweat dripping down his brow and his chest was all red and face flushed.

I panicked. What in the world!!! What does he mean when he said he cut of his ears? Which son? The one crying? Of course, the one crying, you nincompoop! What am I supposed to do? You chopped his ears off? Chipped it? Nipped it? Is there a lot of blood?

He looked at me, still breathing deeply, "Marsh, go downstairs" And I made a mad dash for the door, down the stairs and slowlyd the door, expecting only the worst! An amputated ear on the floor…… But of course that wasn't the case. Josh was bawling like crazy and cotton and cloth soaked in blood was pushed against his left ear. I carried him into my arms and consoled him. I didn't want to look at his ear. I don't want to see the ear! Not because I don't care because I will kill the perpetrator…in this case, my own husband, Joshua's father….if I see the injury and the blood. I will. I don't like to see my children hurt and I am afraid of myself and my own anger when I am in that position. So, I refused to look.

OK, fine! So, I am chicken when it comes to blood, fine!

Anyway, my husband's car was stolen some weeks ago and it's still being recovered, so, we had no transportation to the clinic or hospital. So, we called a cab. Thanks to the higher power who answered my quick silent prayer, a cab arrived infront of the house in a matter of minutes.

Jared was taken back to the house and me, husband and Joshua piled into the cab. By this time, Joshua was not crying as badly anymore. The cotton is also pinkish now…not bright red. So, this probably means that he's no longer bleeding as much, huh?

By the time we reached the clinic, Josh was laughing and smiling but whenever I asked him what happened, he pouted and said, "My daddy cut my ears lah".

Daddy was truly traumatized. He kept shaking his own head in disbelief that he was so careless to cut his own son's ears. My husband is the kind of person who wouldn't stop beating himself over the head if he's done something wrong. He spent the entire day apologizing to Joshua about it. Joshua, being the sensitive and kind soul that he is, he said, "That's ok, daddy".

In the end, the prognosis is that a part of the skin was chipped - I'll spare you the gory details. The fact is that the victim is ok but the accused is not. He swore off scissors for the rest of his life, saying "I don't want to be the family hairdresser anymore. You take over!". I don't know, he might change his mind after this trauma is over.

But it seems like Joshua is already over his painful ordeal.
I asked him, "Mommy cut your hair for you, ok? This time, I won't cut your ears"
He said, "Ok, mom. But you must cut properly, ok? Don't cut my ear again, ok?"

That boy. He's just the sweetest.

:: Marsha ::