Maybe it was because after 3 daughters, I could not bring myself to cut my son’s hair; maybe it was because I always thought guys with long hair looked like artists, philosophers, and wandering gypsies; but most likely, it was because Jayden’s hair, on top of his almost 3 year old head, was the only thing left of the newborn baby that I once held in my arms.
His cries and babbles had become verbal questions and requests, where there was once only pink, shiny gums, he had a full set of pearly teeth, little, chubby dough-like and flailing arms and legs had matured and were not active running and throwing. Even the sweet milky baby smell that had enveloped him had been replaced by the sweaty, outdoorsy scent of a boy hard at play.
Only his hair, soft, silky, blonde and wispy was left of the little cherub that he once was.
Unfortunately, Jayden had an awful habit of chewing on his hair, even when, or maybe especially when he had food in his mouth. So, his hair was often full of crackers, gummy worms, French-fries, or what ever else he happened to have eaten. Add that to the fact that he was getting more and more resistant to having his hair brushed and washed, led me to decide to have it cut.
Originally I planned to have it cut shoulder length, but after getting to the salon, and learning that his hair was long enough to donate it to locks of love if it were to be cut shorter than shoulder length, I agreed.
Jayden loves his new hair cut, and I have to say I really do like it, but he just seems so grown up to me now.
