I didn’t want to do it. There’s something so sweet about just letting his hair be the way it comes naturally. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have cut it until it was down to the middle of his back and flowing in the wind like a wild child.
But Charles felt differently (of course). Kept saying that it was getting in his eyes. That it was time to bite the bullet and do something about it.
After all, we’re his parents. We’re responsible for his grooming, blah blah blah.
So I finally broke down and cut it. Yes, myself. I thought about taking him in to a barber but didn’t want to pay for something I could do myself.
But it wasn’t easy. He twisted and wiggled. Charles had to finally hold him while I finished it off.
That strand had been so much longer than the others because it was there since he was born.
Sniff. He looks so different now.