On Sunday we took the kids to the National Building Museum (which is AWESOME if you're in the area and have never been). All was well and good until another mom looked down at Casey, smiled, and turned to me and said:
"How adorable. How old is she?"
SHE is a boy, bitch!
No, I didn't say that. Though I have to admit, I am a bit sensitive to this issue given the gender-neutral nature of Casey's name.
Instead I just smiled and said thanks.
But when I thought about it, I realized this woman didn't know Casey's name. And he was wearing a blue and green striped shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Why would she think he was a girl?
I knew the answer. I just didn't want to admit it to myself.
It's the hair. The long, luscious, beautiful golden hair that I've been procrastinating cutting. Because it is so cute and so soft and so Casey. Because it is his baby hair and he is a baby and why on earth would I cut it?
But in that moment, I realized. He's not a baby anymore. He's almost 17 months old and he is a boy and it's time for a real boy haircut.
So after naps, we headed out to Cartoon Cuts. I've always hated that place. Braden's always hated that place. It's dirty and crowded and there is always hair in the lollipop jar. But somehow, we ended up there anyway.
Braden began experiencing PTSD symptoms upon arrival, and it took me several minutes to convince him that no, he was not getting his haircut. He eventually calmed down, but it was hard to fight the memory of this moment:
|Braden's First Haircut - the first of many of barber shop meltdowns.|
He sat calmly for a moment or two and watched Scooby Doo on his own personal mini-TV. (Really? Scooby Doo?). And by sat, I mean, standing upright with locked knees and clinging to me for dear life. But the tears were kept at bay.
Until they weren't.
I really don't know how this woman managed to cut his hair in any sort of even way, and judging from the final result, she probably didn't.
|Short on the sides and long in the front, anyone?|
But no matter the haircut, he is still my cute, adorable, baby boy. And today was just a first in a series of firsts to come - first haircut, first day of school, first love.....
My baby boy is growing up. So, so quickly.
And if you think I didn't save a lock of his hair, you thought wrong.
I love that hair.
I love that boy.
More than anything.