Hair Expectations

Everyone who's every dreamed of having kids has certain expectations and images in their head of those future children. Maybe it's that they'll be really good at baseball or have the bluest, bluest eyes. In my mind's eye I'd always pictured my little boy running around with long, white-blonde surfer hair trailing behind him. Turns out that aforementioned long, white-blonde surfer hair gets in the way at the pool and hampers the fun. Always batting the hair out of the eyes, not being able to see after popping up out of the water, doing that Clint Eastwood squinty-eye thing all the time...

Humph.

Yesterday S had his first haircut.

I held out for 2 1/2 years. He hopped up in the chair and let Fantastic Sam Laurie and let her do her thing. I nearly cried. Like 17 years ago when I wept and wept after husband Danger Dad cut off all his long, beautiful hair. (I still have it. All of it. Love makes you do nutty things. Crikey.) It was too hard to let that image go.

I hovered over Fantastic Sam Laurie, willing myself not to say, "not too much , not too much, not too much" like the biblical Samson was sitting before her and she would take all his super-powers away is she snipped, well, too much.

S was awesome. I was a mess.

My sweet strawberry J didn't fare as well.

But darned if she didn't manage to keep her ever-present clip in most of the time.

That's my girl.