Haircut

Sam got his haircut this week. It always makes me a little sad when he does (and not just because I'm "follicularly challenged")

I suppose its because a haircut signifies passage of time, and reminds me that Sam is growing up so fast-- too fast. He is just so adorable now, I can't imagine him being any cuter (but I know that he will be). He is so much fun to be around. A haircut is such an abrupt change too. One day, he's got this mop of unkempt hair, and the next its all short, and he looks so much older.

I remember hating having my haircut as a child--probably until I was 11 or 12, there was crying involved. I wouldn't let them wet my hair, or use the clippers. I remember my Mom giving in to my crying one day, and we left the barber's without getting the haircut. Poor woman, the crap I put her through (although the barber incidents couldn't hold a candle to the dentist). Maybe thats why all my childhood pictures look so miserable. Perhaps its a missed blessing that I lost all my hair.

Sam is such a good boy when he gets his haircut too--he doesn't fuss or cry, and this time he even wore the cape and let them use the clipper!