The First Haircut

My son's hair was wild. I loved that about him. Sure, it was messy and sometimes in his eyes and had some strange swirly action in the back, but it made him unique. Not to say my son's not unique already, believe me, he is, but...well, let me back up.

My parents never let their sons grow long hair. We were boys and if God had wanted us to look like girls, he'd have made us girls.

So what's the first thing we did when we got out of the house? You guessed it: grew long hair. My brothers straight hair grew long in the back, perfect for the pony-tail I'm sure he always desired.

My hair is more curly in nature so as it grew in length it also grew in thickness. I ended up looking like Fryer Tuck, but I thought it was cool.

We've both satisfied our desire to have long hair and I doubt we'll ever do it again. Of course, our parents hated it.

So letting my son have long hair so early in the game, was sort of my way of passive aggressively getting back at my parents for denying me the long hair experience for so long. I think it looks cool also.

In my mind, it's what gives him character. He can't yet talk and while he has loads of personality, in public he can sometimes draw a little into himself, just like his dad, thought I'm sure it's more of the fact that people are so darn interesting to look at.

To me, his hair distinguished him. He didn't look like all the little fresh-cut, neat-haired kids running around in the world. He was my rebellious, wild-haired son. Every time I looked at him, it reminded me of my own hair, though at times troublesome. If we have nothing else, we are bonded for life through our hair.

Then last night, my wife was sitting on the couch across from me and said, "Should we cut his hair?"

She's said this before, but this time, I knew she was serious. There was nothing I could do to change the subject this time.

And before you think we loaded him up and let some stranger cut our son's hair, think again.

In my family we cut our own hair. My wife does it--it's one of her uber-talents.

She's not trained and has "no plan," as she says, but amazingly my hair always turns out well, and hers incredibly.

So we strap him into his highchair and begin. Nothing dramatic--just a few snips in the back, a bit around the ears and just a scosh up front.

It broke my heart a little bit. Gone is the wild-haired portion of my wild-eyed son. Sure nothing's really changed about him, but to me, it's not quite the same having a son maniacally running around in circles in the kitchen with perfectly manicured hair.

But upon closer inspection, my wife missed a few strands...maybe it's not so perfect after all. I'm going to keep that to myself.