KELLY BROWN Mum's the Word...The Munchkin is growing up and has his first hairy experience

My little man has had his first proper haircut – and I’m gutted.

Until now we have managed to get away with just having a good trim at the front, back and sides – not done by me in a bowl-on-the head style, I hasten to add, but by my friend who is a hairdresser. But it was time to declare surrender as his gorgeous little locks were getting out of control.

So with a bag full of books, toys, snacks and every other distraction we could think of we headed to the barbers at the weekend for his first real haircut.

Needless to say when a bloke has his hair cut at the barbers it is a world away from when a woman goes to a hairdresser.

The scattering of hair across the floor as man after man had his hair shaved, clippered or tidied in record time is a million miles away from the head massage and sparkling water environment I am more used to.

But the staff were brilliant with my little guy who spent the first 20 minutes of our visit to the barbers queuing – a completely new experience for me. I like appointments!

He was a little angel and thought it was great fun as he sat on daddy’s lap, played with his toys and watched himself in the mirror.

That lasted for about five minutes after which he burst into tears because he didn’t understand why this man was faffing about with his hair.

So he spent the last five minutes cuddling into me and sobbing as the barber finished off one side and then the other. Job done.

Except now it was my turn to be upset as his new haircut suddenly made him look all-grown up.

I left the house with a little toddler and came home with a little boy.

* Does a dad need to be a boy racer?

It’s my own fault. I told my husband I didn’t mind what he bought when we agreed to replace our little run-around car.

So after much research what practical, family-friendly motor did he buy? A two-seater sports car!

Well our son’s car seat can go in the passenger seat, he tells me with great conviction as I then work out this means I’m going in the boot.

That’s the last time he goes shopping without me.

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