Baby, baby, baby, thought you’d always be mine

Joshua has never had a hair cut. Not even a trim. 

We’ve been loving his baby curls since his hair started growing back in 

after that weird baldness stage he had in infancy. 

But, for reasons somewhat still unbeknownst to me, 

we decided that today was the day.

We have a toddler who is very slow to warm up to new things. 

When we got there, instead of making a bee-line for the toys and trains 

and stuff kids like, he just wanted to hang with his Daddy.

We decided to take him to a children’s salon for his first hair cut. 

This was all about the experience, I guess, though we would’ve paid 

the same amount anywhere we’d taken him. 

And at least the people working here were prepared for children, you know?

Obviously, he enjoyed himself. I mean, what kid doesn’t want to watch Elmo’s World, 

drive a taxi, get as many suckers as possible, and play with trains? 

All at the same time? 

(Whatever. The over abundance of stimuli worked.)

 I was fine until I looked over and saw this little pile of wispy baby curls on the counter. 

Then? 

Yeah. I cried.

I cried. He’s my baby. My tiny little boy. Maybe my one and only. 

And in that moment, I wanted to grab some glue, stick the curls back on, 

and run out the door and off into the land of Denial. 

In fact, I still want to cry.

I knew it had to happen sooner or later. 

I knew we couldn’t let him become some little baby Fabio. 

Or Dog the Bounty Hunter. Or Yanni. 

Or Weird Al. Or a “pro” wrestler. 

But…yeah. 

This is hard for a Mama.

He’s still the cutest little kid I’ve ever seen.

And he’ll always be mine.