Everything was going well for my sensitive grandchild until the stranger wearing an apron and a mask took out a set of clippers, flipped the switch to “vibrate noisily and menacingly” and leaned in next to his little 3-year-old head.
All hell broke loose! With his hair only half-trimmed, he launched a full-pitch, level-ten tantrum. And Grandma received an uncharacteristic emergency call to come in as backup.
Grandparenting the Extra-sensitive Grandchild
Parenting a “sensitive” or “anxious” child is tricky. I feel for the parents of this delightful little boy with a Jekyll and Hyde approach to everything from watermelon to bathtime. I have tried to intervene with my own “superior” parenting skills before. “Surely,” I thought, “this sensitive grandchild will respond well to Grandma’s expertise.” I learned quickly that I have no better success navigating his quirks than they do. That has helped humble me. Specifically, I’ve learned that all of the expertise I developed raising my own children is no match for a child who is mortally afraid of a set of hair clippers.
I have a toolbelt of things that worked with my own children. I’ve polished my arsenal well. But this one has his own unique personality, just as his mother has–as each of my children has. I am learning all over again how to “grandmother” another unique human. And I recognize that unchecked, well-intentioned but unrequested grandmotherly interventions may have one of two disastrous consequences:
- Making his parents feel judged or incapable
- Straining my relationship with my grandson
Those consequences aren’t acceptable, so I’m writing this post partly in an effort to share what I have learned, and partly to learn from what I have learned.
The Sensitive Grandchild Meltdown:
Let’s review what life had been like that morning for this particular 3-year-old:
The day hadn’t gone well. He’s a “sensory-cautious” little boy. He didn’t like what was served for breakfast or refused to eat it, which means he started his morning on a mostly empty stomach. I’m guessing something about the play routine he had planned for himself was interrupted when his mother packed him up to go to his little kids’ tumbling class, and he was ticked off about it. This is a class she takes him to expressly because she’s a great mom and understands his need to move and be active after being cooped up in a 2-bedroom apartment all winter during a pandemic.
What I know for certain is that his usual tumbling teacher was sick, and that prompted a meltdown the likes of which his Mom had never experienced. She had no choice but to put him back in the car, and he missed class altogether. Next, after buckling him and his little sister into their car seats and taking a minute to gather her wits, she drove to a local kids’ hair salon for their scheduled haircut. But by then, his sense of self-preservation was already on high alert. Everything was going well until the cosmetologist hit the on switch on those hair clippers. The trifecta of hangry child, disappointed child, and frightened child were now converged into that level-ten tantrum.
Cue the Grandma Intervention
His mother placed a quick FaceTime call to me to see if talking to Grandma might help. She was juggling her other toddler, her screaming son with half a haircut, and trying to ignore staring onlookers. Backup was only a FaceTime call away. My day was flexible, so the obvious solution was to jump in the car and go be part of the fun (plus, I had access to Grandpa’s secret-weapon iPad, and I knew it might provide a distraction they hadn’t already tried).
Into the Jaws of a Preschool Haircut
It didn’t take a genius to understand that he was truly terrified, not simply trying to be difficult. He’s had his hair cut before—even at this same location, but on this day, he was deep into the cortisol-bathed part of his reptile brain and would not even consider putting on a cape. So I sat in the chair with him on my lap, iPad open to a “Bugs and Buttons” app, ready to be the solution to this whole big problem. Little did I know.
Grandma, You Are Only an Experienced Novice!
The very first snip with the scissors caused a few fine hairs to drop down his collar and I felt his little frame tense. Another fight was coming! I quickly covered his neck with my hands. I told him I would not let anyone hurt him, and held him as close as I could. The cosmetologist did her best to work around my head in order to reach his.
We got most of the second half of his haircut finished until she had to get those clippers out again. He heard them vibrating and was certain I had betrayed him. I touched the clippers with my fingers to show him they wouldn’t hurt. I let the cosmetologist shave some hair from my neck while he watched so he’d see what clippers do. He wasn’t reassured. His mother and I tried gentleness, we tried persuasion, we even offered a bribe–all of the things moms and grandmas typically do in an effort to negotiate with a 40-pound terrorist.
None of it worked. The options left were leaving the haircut unfinished, or hogtying him and trying brute force. Neither of those was a desirable option. Child psychologist, Penelope Leach points out that “the worst part of his fear isn’t those looming scissors, but the horrible panicky feeling of fear itself. That’s why you can never teach a child not to be afraid by frightening him even more.”
This wasn’t a great experience for anyone, including the dutiful cosmetologist. She admitted she’s been knocked unconscious by frightened children before. Somehow, it made me feel better to know we weren’t her worst haircut clients ever.
Processing Our Joint Distress – Reassuring the Sensitive Grandchild
Later that evening, my grandson was visiting with me in my kitchen and was still processing this, in his words, “totowy scawy” event.
I wondered how we could use play to help him resolve some of what he was feeling. Luckily, I am a grandma, and I have a few things in that grandma’s arsenal of mine.
First, we got out a set of hair clippers. Next, I dug to the bottom of my fabric collection and found a piece of fake fur. This is why Grandmothers were invented. We actually have this kind of stuff laying around the house.
Initially, he would not touch the buzzing clippers, but after only a few seconds of watching me shave the fur, he wanted a turn. For most of the next twenty minutes, he sat next to me and shaved to his heart’s content. I was right next to him supervising. I would not attempt this game otherwise.
Next, we found a decades-old PlayDoh extrusion kit (one of those toys my kids think I should have thrown away years ago) that is among the playthings in my Grandma Toy Library that the grandkids always ask for when they visit. We practiced PlayDoh dog and cat haircuts for another 30 minutes.
Did Play Therapy Work?
I have no idea whether his next visit to get his hair trimmed will be any easier for him. What I’m certain of is that I felt significant satisfaction knowing that right there, next to him, I could help my sensitive grandchild feel less afraid at that moment. And that reassured both of us. We have this experience in our arsenal now. We’ll be able to get through the next haircut. Together.
