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Tuesday 4 February 2014

Curls

Prior to having Linus, I self-righteously declared:
 
I don't understand those women that are obsessed with their son's curls and won't cut their hair.
I'll never do that. I hate long hair on boys.
 
Linus was nearly 23 months old before he had his first haircut. When it was wet, his hair reached his shoulder blades. Now, it is curly, so it never looked nearly that long when dry. But still. Some days it looked like the hair of a ridiculous ragamuffin.
 

But some days... oh the perfection.

 
 
Angelic, beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. Colour me obsessed. And I dithered for months over what to do. I knew the time for a haircut was imminent, if not well-passed. I decided that I should cut it myself as I didn't trust anyone else to do it. I figured that I would be more angry if I let someone else ruin it than if I ruined it myself.
 
At any rate, I bought some nice hair-cutting scissors. Then I didn't do anything for another week or two. Then one lunch time- I did it.
 
 
I nearly cried. But I did it. A few snips across the back, made trickier by a massive cowlick across the nape of his neck and a teensy bit of trimming on the sides. I decided that keeping the curls in a bowl was crazy. So I put them in a ziplock bag. 

 
I've been pleased with how it turned out, but I'm still fearing future haircuts. I know I can't do it forever. Or can I? Are there any YouTube-based hair-cutting curricula?
 
Oh, and the day after I cut it, a woman referred to him as a "she". So much for the hair making him look like a girl.