For several weeks, we've been telling Sam that it's time for a haircut. He usually responds by calmly stating "No want to!" as he runs the other direction. Yesterday, I actually got out the clippers and scissors and suggested he "sit in this nice chair right here and eat a sucker while I cut [his] hair." He sat still long enough to get the sucker, but his protests soon became so aerobic that I knew, under such conditions, any adjustments to his coiffure would be disastrous.
About an hour later, Sam took matters into his own hands to prove that his hair is perfectly manageable as it is.
And really, how can I argue with proof like that? The sad thing is, this little beauty shop session of his proves that he knows how to use this particular hair care product better than I do. I can never get that kind of sheen and body. I may have him take over style maintenance for my hair too.