Briggs’ hair was looking a little sloppy and a little wispy. The hairs over his ears were starting to curl and the top comb over was prominent. The back of his hair was curly and was the start of a great mullet. It was everything to expect in baby hair. But it was baby hair. And the older he gets, the less I see my baby and it was time to make the transition. My baby no longer.
Except that he still cries a lot which is a good reminder that maybe he’s still my baby for a while longer.
He was more sad about the haircut than I was. That one little tear was suspended on his cheek throughout the entire haircut. He would calm for a minute and then quickly return to wailing. As if each individual hair that I cut was a painful slice.
I was left with a little pile. For my first two kids, I saved the hair from the first cut – and then I realized I didn’t need it. I don’t keep traditional scrapbooks and I couldn’t think of a reason to save it. So I scooped up this pile and tossed it as if it was just another haircut. If I change my mind about wanting to save some, I’ll just grab some from his next haircut – no one will know the difference! 🙂