I honestly thought when this moment would come that my eyes would be filled with tears as those sweet little curls fell to the floor, but I didn't actually cry. I was actually a little relieved. In the weeks leading up to his first haircut I went through the stages of first haircut grieving.
STAGE ONE: Getting weepy-eyed at the mere thought. I would watch his little golden curls as they bounced along with him and he bounced through the house. I loved their little spring, no matter how girly they looked, and they reminded me of the baby he was. I loved those crazy curls and I wanted them to stay forever. A kid can have his first haircut at 21, right?
STAGE TWO: Getting used to the idea. After about the third person says, "Isn't she adorable?" I started considering that maybe a haircut wouldn't be so bad. And then the next time I had to dislodge food from those curls, I considered it again. (Especially when little chunks of hair came away with the food.) And little by little, they grew longer and longer and crazier and crazier and they slowly started to look a little less adorable.
STAGE THREE: Desperation. The cuteness of the curls started to turn into just crazy wisps. In fact, these wisps could hardly be called curls. His hair began to look more like Einstein's after sticking a paperclip into a light socket. Most days it was just wild and crazy and it started to drive me crazy. It was time.
Since by the time I finally caved I was fully into Stage Three, I did not cry. I wasn't exactly dancing with joy, but I wasn't weeping. His aunt, my sister-in-law, usually cuts our hair and she had been out of the country on a missions trip for a couple of months. Once she came back, I let her know that we had waited for her return so she could do his first haircut and he was available whenever she was ready to cut it. So, one day when we were over at her house, she pulled out her comb, scissors and a little hair-cutting cape (I'm not sure if these actually have an official name or not). At first, Client Two just sat in the chair wrapped in his cape looking up at me with his big, killer blue eyes. I quickly snapped a couple of "before" shots.
Then, his aunt began brushing his wispy little hairs with her comb, which he loved. Once she started snipping, he kept turning his head to try to see what was going on (He is way too curious and nosey for his own good), so his other aunt jumped in and distracted him by combing his hair with another comb.
I stood by at first, snapping pictures and catching hair wisps to save in a plastic baggie (I'm quite the sentimentalist) but eventually, I had to take turns holding him so he could get a decent haircut. In the end, the crazy, Einstein wisps were gone and in their place was a nicely cut, toddler do.
Now, as I watch him bounce around the house, he looks older. It's like he grew up over night. He looks neat and collected (at least, until he smears food all over his face). A little more of that baby look is gone, but it suits him. With the curls gone, the hair that actually is on top of his head seems more prominent so he looks less bald than before. Now, he's my little man. He's growing up way too fast, but I've made my peace. We are taking him out tomorrow to buy his first car.
No comments:
Post a Comment