Premature Hair Loss

Chickie’s new hair pulling obsession found him back at the Barber’s for a rather severe but necessary No 4 all over. To teach mummy that any efforts on her part to control him were futile, he reached up a chubby hand to twiddle his new do. On discovery that stubble wasn’t twiddlable, he rather resourcefully began pinching it out instead.

That night as I sewed mittens onto the arms of his pyjamas and wondered whether the permanent wear of a bicycle helmet would single him out as ‘different’ from the other children at pre-school, I wondered how Chickie would get out of this one. Twelve hours later, the amazing Chickie had managed it. I still don’t know how he did, but he did, and he looked smug about it too.

This lunchtime I purchased 3 giant t-shirts and spent half an hour sewing the arms shut. A balding Chickie watched me as I chuckled evilly at my genius. “Let’s see you get out of this one, Chickie”. “Bring it on Mummy – bring it on!” (okay, whilst he didn’t actually say those exact words, I could tell what he was thinking. Mummies know these things!)