Gimme a Head with Hair; Long, Beautiful Hair...

The Who was born bald. Ish. He had a few wisps of almost reddish hair, but nothing to write home about. Frankly, I didn't expect much. My mother tells me that I was "bald 'til I was 2" and while I am pretty sure she was exaggerating (I've seen pictures, Ma) I probably would have been a decent candidate for a baby wig.

It's amazing to me how a kid can go from virtually bald to haircut-worthy in less than a year, but here we are.

 

1 week old. Not even eyelashes. So sad.

 

1 year old. Positively shaggy.

And so there he was, in the barber's chair. (Ok, ok. It wasn't a barber at all. It was a froo-froo lady hair salon. He came out very pretty. That's how secure we are in his masculinity. Next time, we're getting him a paraffin hand wax, too. Maybe a facial if he is very, very good.) Anyway, right. So, first haircut. When we first talked about a haircut, m* and I decided that we liked that shaggy-hair look on little kids, a la Levi McConaughey and we were going to let it grow. It got cuter and cuter, curling up around the ears and at the nape of his neck, but then the hair in the eyes started to bother me. That and the fact that he looked slightly ridiculous when I put a baseball cap on him. And spring is coming (dammit, I insist that it is, despite the 6-foot snowbanks at the end of our street!) and I am partial to baseball caps in the spring. Visions of a summerful of hat-head began to creep in and I was not at all pleased. So, off to the salon we went, ziploc bag and camera in tow for the baby book memories.

Now, I have heard first-haircut horror stories: "I've had kids threaten to kill me. Seriously, this one toddler pulled out an Uzi" (hyperbolically speaking.)

The thing is, I wasn't even worried about The Who. He's so mellow. Ok, he's been holding his own in the toddler tantrum department lately, but in a group of kids his age, he is almost always the most laid-back. (Yes, I know how lucky I am. Yes, I know he's not 2 yet. Or 3. Yes, yes, I know.) But the fact remains: I plopped him onto a tall chair, they wrapped a towel around his shoulders like a cape, sprayed his head with water, and started clipping. He barely peeped.

And now my baby's a man. Or, well, a boy anyway.