After he left San Diego, he had a rough go of it. I know what you're thinking - why would anyone leave San Diego? But he did, and he suffered. And then he became "poor haircut."
Perhaps we were so enamored with calling him "Haircut" because we so seldom had the chance to speak of the phenomenon here in our household.
We've got hair, people.
We've got hairy people.
Take this guy, for instance:This photo was taken less than a month ago, on his first day of fifth grade. It's good hair, right? It's long, but kind of cool and suits him. And the color? Do you have any idea how much I pay for that color?
My boy is a 10 year old in Southern California. He goes to an arts based charter school. Long, unruly hair is the rule, not the exception.
Sure, some people don't like long hair on boys. Some people, like his dad, are bothered by the cut and the way my boy insists that the hair has to cover his ears. Some people are relentless in their disdain for the long, unruly style. But my boy has always known that although he has neither the wealth nor the power that might allow him to control many aspects of his young life, he does get to control his own head. We've always allowed him to make the call about his hair, we figure that in the great scheme of pre-adolescence, we should choose our battles, and hair just doesn't measure up to whatever arbitrary battle lines are bound to be drawn.
A couple of weekends ago, we went to a fundraising event that was held at a salon. The kids were to get haircuts, and I was true to my word when I left it to them to speak with the stylists about how their hair would be cut. My girl came away with an adorable, bouncy bob. My boy was done in about 12 seconds, and I begrudgingly handed over the cash for his non-haircut.
Shortly thereafter, we spent an afternoon selling cold water to thirsty football fans. Maybe one too many of them walked away with a friendly "thanks, girls!"
So I wasn't entirely surprised when my boy asked me to take him in for a real haircut this weekend. But when his sister and I returned to retrieve him after running errands, we were shocked to find this guy
where my boy used to be.
He's really into it. We celebrated by going swimming, and he was so psyched to jump out of the water and not have to unveil himself from under a shroud of wet hair that rivaled Cousin It's. He can't keep his eyes off of himself, and I have to keep reminding him that when someone compliments him by saying: "nice haircut!", the proper reply is not: "I know!"
Am I the only one who misses his mop?