I really miss those blonde curls. Every single day I regret letting The Boyfriend cut The Kid’s hair. It might sound silly, but I think with those curls, he was perfect. Perfect little white-blonde curly-haired, blue-eyed, dimple-cheeked cherub of a baby boy.
It took a long, long time for that hair to grow. He wasn’t born with a mop of hair, like most babies these days seem to have. No. My Kid looked like a little old man when I got my first look at him. Not much hair on top, and a wrinkled face and bottom and toes and fingers. He pretty much stayed bald and garden-gnome-lookish until he was at least a year and a half old.
This didn’t bother me much, I was still convinced I had the most beautiful baby in the world. The best-looking and the smartest. For sure. Never mind the fact that he liked to eat sand and he once tried to eat the contents of his nappy. My Kid’s the smartest in the world. It’s true, I tell you.
It took a long time for me to agree to a haircut. And by agree I mean I said: do it now, before I change my mind. If you don’t do it right now, I more than likely will change my mind. Cutting of hair is not something I do with excitement. It happens only when I really need it to happen, and I have no other choice. Mainly because I’ve been subjected to bad haircuts myself, since 2007. Three years is a long time when you have a bad haircut. I’ve tried so many different places, but there’s just no one who can get it right.
I am even more reluctant to expose my child to the risks involved in a hair cut. He’d be funny-looking for weeks and weeks if it went badly, and I really just couldn’t bear that. But I did it. About two months ago. And never really spoke about it. His hair isn’t as blonde as it used to be either.
Just as his hair is starting to grow again, The Boyfriend tells me he wants to shave it again. And this time I’m going to disagree. This time I’m going to say no. This time I’m going to insist that his hair be left to grow until he is old enough to ask for a haircut. Until he is old enough to actually want to sit STILL for a haircut.
Soon he’s going to be at school, where he will be forced to have short haircuts, and forced to have them regularly. So until then, I’m going to just let him be. Let him be a child and not have to worry about sitting still for haircuts and other silly things that adults impose on children.
Why? Because how can you not think this is the cutest thing in the world, ever?