the haircut

There's just something about cutting my kids' hair for the first time that brings me to tears. Yesterday it was Louie's turn. He's almost twenty-six months old and one of my friends (STEFA) has been asking about his "mullet" for at least six months...She was right, it was time.

So we drove around for over an hour looking for just the right barber shop. Both Grandmas, both older siblings, video camera and digital camera in tow, we invaded B Ray's Barber shop on Grand in Springfield, MO. I called at least six shops because I didn't want to walk into a fu-fu studio for my boy's first hair cut. "Yes, but do you do perms?" I'd ask whoever answered the phone. B Ray said, "No way." Bingo.

Once we arrived, we waited another hour for Louie's turn. He had the opportunity to watch Demetrius do an excellent job cutting Jonathan's hair, but B Ray himself was going to do Louie's. Placing a board on the chair arms, B Ray invited Louie into the chair. Everyone in the room was poised for a wrestling match, but Louie sat straight and still and giggled each time the razor got close to his ears.

Suddenly my baby was a little boy.

B Ray signed the first haircut certificates. Mom and I collected all of Louie's silky locks. Then we all piled back into the car. Throughout the ride, Louie would occasionally touch his head and look into my eyes. "Yes, my love," I said, "your first haircut. You did great!"

He heard my words, and he saw my smile, but he kept fixing his gaze on my moist eyes the rest of the night. My discerning son sensed the mixed message: Yes, it was time to cut your hair. Yes, you did great. And yes, mommy feels like time is moving way too fast.