It’s no secret that I’m terrible at meeting that first haircut milestone with any kind of joy in my heart. I hate that the hair they were born with, the baby locks that I grew, is taken away. It feels like a part of them, and me, is taken away – a bond broken. Worse still is that with those scissors, the last essence of baby is taken from my boy and I have to accept that he’s really, truly growing up.
Hero was two last week when I took him to His & Kids in town to have his first haircut. His big brother was lucky enough to have his hair snipped by the Senior Barber on Mainstream USA in Disney World when he was 2 – and so like his biggest brother, he sat still in our local hairdressers and watched a DVD when he wasn’t looking at himself in the mirror. All three of them find being pampered relaxing – Lyoto fell asleep in the chair a few weeks ago although tried to deny it rather grumpily to everyone afterwards.
We went to the park afterwards for a run around, and so I could watch him proudly show his big brothers that he too was now officially one of them, a big boy. He has big boy manners and opens the gate for me too.
We walked home across the fields and I tucked him into my bed that night, watching him as I do because he’s the sweetest dreamer [and heaviest sleeper] And as it sank in, I sighed. He’s growing up. Being my last baby that hurts my heart a little more than it has with my bigger boys. It’s more of a loss – but I love that we can do more things together now as a little team.
In any case, now it’s done. First haircut. He’s a boy – a real boy, as Jensen tells him in his best Pinocchio [the one from the Shrek films] voice. A real boy with no baby strings left. He’s pretty cute though.