Yesterday I took Nate to get a haircut. He loves to get his haircut and was begging me to take him all through lunch. We whipped in there and I plopped him down in the big chair.
I don't want it very short, I told the young miss who would do the job. I like it longish, I just want a little length taken off and his bangs trimmed so he can see. (However, instead of "bangs" I said "fringe". Because I am culturally relevant.)
I said all that and then stood back. She started cutting, I was busy doing a few other things (cough, texting, cough) and then she was done. And Nate's hair was not very "longish" anymore.
Gone are the little curls at the back of his neck. Gone is the classic Nate shagginess. And in its place is a big boy haircut. What happened?
I fell asleep at the switch is what happened. Nate loves it, though. He grinned and strutted through the grocery store when we were finished. But I was a bit sad. He seems like such an older boy all of a sudden. (Until he shakes his bare bottom in my face--then I remember that he is indeed still a little boy.) And I have become the cliche of a mom who mourns every haircut and too-small shoe. Given Becky's recent hair dramas, I am keeping it in perspective. I know this is indeed No Big Deal. I know that It Grows Back. But I miss that little dude haircut.
I am totally letting it grow back.