The boy had been looking shaggy. Hair flopping around on the top of his head and a mullet trickling down his neck. My wife was hating the way he was starting to look and wanted to have him get a haircut. I thought he looked just fine, he is a boy after all and if you ask me boys always look shaggy no matter what. My wife was getting tired of people calling him a girl at the park and felt it was time to clean up his image.
Of course I lost in the battle of keeping his hair and it was determined when my mother-in-law visited his hair would be cut. She was coming to visit for the day this past weekend and brought her scissors to cut his baby hair.
I think the biggest part about cutting his hair was my fear of knowing he was getting older and needed it. I’m not ready for my son to need haircuts just like I’m not ready for him to be walking, but there’s another thing I’m losing. The kid has gone from crawling to doing more and more walking every day.
The transition from crawling to walking happened in one weekend and now he seems to prefer walking to any other mode of transportation around our apartment. This has meant more falls and bruises, but the scariest thing about this is he’s no longer my baby, but is now my toddler.
Now that his hair is cut he no longer looks like my little boy. He looks older, he looks like a pre-teen ready to take on the world. (So that is a little dramatic, but that’s how I feel right now). Along with his haircut his personality seems to be growing along with his stubbornness. I blame his mother for that, but I know she’ll blame me. (Typical) The word no has somehow become part of his vocabulary and he’s getting really good at using it. He seems to think if he says it first he can continue doing what he’s not supposed to do. This has been fun so far and I can only assume it will get better as he gets older.
I know him growing up is inevitable, but I’ll fight the speed in which he does the best I can. I know I can’t keep him looking like a baby and not create emotional issues for him later. He needs to grow and I need to be able to grow with him, helping him on the way to becoming that pre-teen who will more than likely get under my skin at times. I need to be willing to teach him as he grows and adapt with the changes he’s going through. I’m sure it will all work out in the end, but right now I’m going to go look at some pictures of him when he was still looking like that little shaggy boy not needing a haircut and still struggling to crawl.