The night before Little Smith's third birthday, I lay next to him in the dark and we whispered about the possibility of a haircut. Whenever I had asked him in the past he would say 'no' reflexively, but this time I told him it could be fun, and with very little coaxing he seemed open to the idea. I told him he could choose between going to the barber like daddy or having mama cut his hair, and he was very clear that he wanted mama to do it.
The next morning I almost forgot that we had planned on a haircut, and then without thinking too much about it (or even mentioning it to James), I just decided to go for it. Armed with an irresistible movie (Cars!) and a package of M&M's left over from Halloween, I grabbed our kitchen scissors and started to snip.
I was filled with a complex brew of emotions, sadness at letting go of the baby, focus and nerves at attempting any haircut (which is not a skill of mine!), excitement and heartswells for my little man's fresh new look... he is just so darn cute.
When we were all finished, I lifted him up so he could see himself in the mirror and his face lit up with the biggest smile. It was a huge relief that he liked it and I imagine it will be nice for him not to have hair hanging in his face all the time, as much as I do miss those baby locks. It might be wishful thinking, but I swear he even has an extra confidence about him, a brand new three year old swagger.
Little boy, you wear it well... pulling off a mama's clueless haircut like nobody's business!
more about struggling to cut those hairs here.