Minus the shave . . . for a few more years, at least . . .
I knew this day was coming fast once Bun's golden locks became long enough to gather into a ponytail and people started mistaking him for a girl. Plus, my husband is a veteran, people -- I'm lucky he wasn't given a high-and-tight before his first birthday.
I've never been sentimental about the girls' first haircuts, but the boys both got me. Maybe it's because the change is so extreme, or maybe it's just that my girls have SO MUCH HAIR. I always felt more relieved than weepy over the girls' trims. Less hair = shorter snarly hair-brushing sessions = GOOD THING in my book.
Or maybe it's that last little trace of tiny babyhood that goes poof! and disappears with the first boy haircut that makes me sigh.
Any way you slice it, he seems like a real boy now, to quote Pinocchio.
But all of that real boyhood doesn't preclude me from gathering him up and kissing his face off for good measure.
You know, just to show him who's the boss and who's the baby.
(And once I figure that out, I'll let you know, my friends.)