A little off the top

For some reason the idea of the cutting of baby S's curls, was to be evidence that he was no longer really baby S, but a fully grown man with a healthy dose of testosterone pulsing through his loins. At least that's how I saw it. Since this was something I found impossible to digest, I avoided it completely. The topic of baby haircuts made me defensive, often causing an inexplicable lashing out or a drawn out explanation as to why certain babies don't need haircuts, ...ever.

But recently his curls began to flatten and stretch, maintaining little of their original shape. It was as pathetic as a retired pageant queen in a mini skirt. We tried hard to hold onto something from the past that just wasn't there anymore. A sad semblance of days gone by.

So, in the spirit of embracing a whole new cycle in baby S's life and mine, I took him to the coiffeur in the centre commerciale. A overprocessed lovely blonde named Corrine snipped all of his curls off and stuffed them in a small envelope for me to grieve over.

Baby S, seemed confused by the whole experience and sat stoically on my lap staring at his reflection in the mirror as if to say, "who is that child on the other side of the salon scowling back at me?" He was a very good boy though and barely moved for the entire session. As a result he looks fabulously manly, not a snip out of place.