A photo essay on my little punks

Citizens of Baraboo, I'd like to assure you that my sons, Eli and Jackson, have not — quite yet — become hellions. Or rebels, or punks, or roustabouts.

Not at all.

The new haircuts they acquired over the weekend, however, may lead you to this conclusion. Really, there's no need for alarm.

You see, for several years I have been cutting costs by cutting the hair of all three of my boys (that tally includes my husband).

I'm the first to admit there have been some mishaps.

In the time since my mother-in-law gifted me a set of clippers, I have both shaved one of my husband's sideburns bald after forgetting to attach the comb, and later, while attempting to trim the area around his ear with a scissors, sliced him open right above the left lobe.

But we saved $15 on each of those occasions, so I, for one, believe it was well worth it.

My sons are perhaps justifiably less thrilled to have me cut their hair, especially my older son, Eli.

His hair is so thick it, for lack of a better term, is woolly. He wanted to grow it out, but since the weather turned, it's been like wearing a shaggy sheepskin on his head, and he's been in dire need of a shearing.

Still he resisted - until he came home from skateboarding Saturday and announced he was ready for me to cut his hair … into a Mohawk.

Apparently, he was inspired by "that one guy at the skate park" — an older kid who's a really good skater and whose coolness is compounded by his haircut.

This was the first time in his life Eli has had an opinion on anything related to style. He usually just doesn't care. But he sat down in the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his shoulders, and said, "I'm ready when you're ready, Mama."

There are no major holidays approaching. No school pictures. What's the worst that could happen? So I went for it.

Let me tell you, giving a 7-year-old a Mohawk is harder than it would seem.

Mostly, it's a challenge to get it straight. His isn't. Not even close, really. But lucky for me this is only noticeable from the vantage point of an adult.

The other thing I didn't anticipate was that his 5-year-old brother, with his beautiful straight shiny locks that I have long kept in a pretty-boy cut, would upon seeing his brother decide that he, too, needed a Mohawk.

Now.

Also sitting wrapped in a towel on the bathroom floor, like some kind of haircut sit-in, he would insist on it until I caved.

I planned for Jack's to be a much more subtle gradation, using the ½ inch comb at the sides and the 1 inch on top. I was clever. But then, after trimming the top and realizing the "hawk" part was uneven, I accidentally switched to the ¼ inch comb for the sides.

"Oh, no!" I cried when it was too late.

"What is it?" he demanded, probably thinking I had just sliced off a section of his ear.

But when it was done, he loved it.

As I vacuumed up their locks from the bathroom floor, I could hear Jack improvising a song in the shower: "Uh-huh… Oh, yeah … I have a Mohawk. First Mama said I couldn't, but then she gave me one anyway … Oh, yeah … I have a Mohawk …"

Then, still in song, "Now I have to pee, but I'm in the shower. Should I get out, or should I just pee in the shower?"

I won't get into how that was resolved.

Eli told me, "Thank you so much for the haircut, Mama. I always wanted some kind of Mohawk."

When I asked him why, he said, "Because … it just makes you look so much cooler. Doesn't it?," framing his head with his hands, like Madonna in the "Vogue" video.

I thought you were cool before, I said, but yes, you may have gone up a few notches.

Jack came in and nodded at his brother in appreciation. "Your haircut looks awesome, Eli," he said.

"Thanks, Jack. So does yours."

So though they may spend the summer looking like hellions, they're not acting like it quite yet. But if their choice in haircut is any indication, they may have a little rebel in them already.