Making the cut

Why is it always another blog post about a hair cut? I know that it's really not, but I don't like the pattern I'm creating by making another blog post about one of my children and scissors. Thank goodness, this encounter with scissors involved an actual professional!
As much as I loved and still miss Huntington's curly blonde locks, it was time to cut them. I had always said that I would never have a baby boy with long hair and I'd cut his hair as soon as it got too long, in my book at least. But, when my blonde boy's hair got too long, when people started asking me "when are you gonna give that boy a haircut" I started to get the hint. I even had an uncle who told me, in his best low, slow Texas voice "that boy ain't gonna know he's a boy if you don't cut his hair." Message received Uncle Johnny. Shortly after Hunt turned 18 months, I decided it was time.
I called Mrs. Nancy and made an appointment and secured reinforcements via Kylia, of course, and set us up for a Saturday. We journeyed to Mrs. Nancy's shop and attempted to let Hunt be a big boy and sit by himself but he quickly realized what we were up to. I ended up sitting with him and letting him watch movies on my iPhone while Kylia wrangled the girls. We got some video but for now, photos will have to do. He looked like a totally different person when Mrs. Nancy got through. He was no longer my baby, he was officially my little man! Bitter and sweet all at the same time. He still is, and I wouldn't have it any other way.














**MSL**