Haircut Attempt

Our "Saturday Family Fun" activity last weekend was haircuts. Yeah, yeah, kinda lame for everyone except Alice who giggled and jumped and begged for her turn. This particular haircut won't make my top 20 list. It's a real hack job. Sharper scissors would help. A lot. And maybe some haircutting training.

Anyway, I see Robert's hair is hanging over the tops of his ears and think a spiffy little haircut will make him look even spiffier in his Sunday duds the next day. I plop the boy down, drape him in the gown, and make the first cut right above his left ear. A clump of light brown baby hair flutters to the floor and I regret it instantly. It's not just that the straight cut looks completely terrible. Terrible like...like...like his mom just took a pair of scissors and cut straight above his ear:

No, the part I most regret is seeing that little clump of baby hair on the floor.

What?! Since when am I the kind of person to get sentimental over haircuts?!

This boy's babyhood is different, somehow, from my experience with Alice (uh, duh Susan). I want him to grow up enough to make my life easier, but I don't want him to really grow up.

Despite this sudden longing to preserve Robert's fleeting babyhood, I still have to fix my (second) hack job. I take the clippers and run a 7/8ths inch length all over his head. It graduates the straight cut enough to hide a bit of my shame, but now there is even more baby hair on the floor and I'm getting more emotional by the second. His fuzzy halo remains, though severely crippled. Hope springs anew. It may grow back.