Your child’s first haircut is a rather momentous occasion no matter what their age. Though I envisioned this occurring much past one year of age, Cutter, or rather his hair follicles, have had a much more ambitious plan. His locks, luscious as they were, had turned from bad to worse nearly overnight. He went from a cute cherub to an overgrown shrub in a matter of days. Call it maternal angst, but I was quite distraught over snipping his hair. To be fair, this truly would be his second haircut of sorts. Steve took the shears to him when he was merely four month olds. It seems his vitamins are not lacking in the B, C or E department.
All the same, I exhibited much trepidation and every time Steve suggested a trim, I changed the subject. You would have thought he was going to cut my own hair for all the fear I was carrying with me.
Steve happened to catch me on a night that I was a bit preoccupied with my 1950’s housewife duties, and casually mentioned he was going to give Cutter a haircut. I blithely agreed and carried on, only moments later to realize what I had just agreed to. I set things aside, and set out to gather the necessary paraphernalia for such fanfare; scissors, comb, camera, camcorder, and a towel. This was truly happening.
Bath time is by far Cutter’s happiest time of the day, and so hair trimming would commence in the tub. Steve has trimmed his own hair (and the other men of the household) for as long as I have known him and so I really had no doubts towards his capabilities, again it was more of Mommy angst. I felt as if this haircut sealed the loss of his infancy. And I don’t think I was wrong in that prophetic declaration.
Cutter emerged on the other side with a much more fashionable coif, looking ever more the dapper toddler I know is lurking around the corner waiting to greet me.
For all intensive purposes, I no longer have an infant.
Enjoying his bathtime cut
Sharing with duckie
Modeling his new cut