Bittersweet

When I imagined Sawy Boy as a toddler, I envisioned locks of hair, wildly flying with the wind and falling in a carefree, just-so manner. Picture Lord of the Flies.

Not the case. For better or worse, the poor kid has been cursed with the genes of his parents, both of which have boring, straight, lifeless hair. In my efforts to avoid a haircut to see if this is "just a stage," I fear I've allowed to grow what's turning out to be an unfortunate mullet.

Against my hopes, we had to break down and just cut it. I mourn the day because I thought we wouldn't cut his hair until it was longer, but you've got to know when you're beat. I even put a bobby-pin in it pre-haircut since it was getting in his way and he couldn't see I wanted to know what it felt like to put a barrette in your baby's hair.

TK refused to pay someone any money for something he believed he could do. And he was right... we put a video on the computer, and daddy got to work, snipping and pruning my little baby's precious locks.

Sweet little love! A big-boy haircut was the nail in the coffin that my boy is really growing up before my eyes. He's become so independent, capable, and lively over the last couple months, and now he's starting to look the part of a legitimate toddler.

Bittersweet.