If I Had a Photograph of You

I don't like shaven heads on small boys. There is enough early onset thuggery without the obligatory grade 1 or 2 clippered look. So every 7 weeks we head for Trendy Salon for consultation, hot chocolate, spicy biscuits and expensive cuttage.

JP and Tiddler - have completely different hair type and colour and therefore have different stylists at the Trendy Salon.

JP has thick, dark hair that grows sideways at the back instead of down and sticks up adorably in the front in a calf lick that will dog him his whole life (as mine does). He has his cut pretty short all over, with a little wax in the front for that Cheeky Charmer finish.

Tiddler has fine, blonde, static-prone hair (like mine) which sticks out in all directions when short, so has to been kept in a longish moptop for control and order to reign.

It therefore offers him a range of bizarre styling options, to his own unique requirements.

For Red Nose Day he sported a 5-inch red mohican spike, which rapidly collapsed to a flopping tulip, given the length and fineness of his hair. Headteacher was most impressed, as he took the stage in assembly to receive a certificate for not killing anyone at Fencing.

Last week he informed me that he sometimes takes girls' headbands at school to look like Tevez.

But this week, he has surpassed himself. Trendy Salon being busy, he trooped upstairs with stylist Wendy - out of sight. I should have known better.

Twenty minutes later he catwalks down the stairs, bewaxed and grinning. The entire salon clientele collapses in laughter - foil, caps and rollers shaking in unison.

'It's like that man from The Wedding Singer, Mummy. At the airport check-in.' - JP observes.

Sure enough, the sides are plastered up into two wings and the centre is flattened forward over one eye - a la Flock of Seagulls.

Wendy returns the tub of wax to the drawer and walks off to her next client.

I just stand and stare, trying to calculate the appropriate tip.