I knew the day would come.
I was hoping it would be further in the future.
But Little Man had to have his way.
His gorgeous curls have slowly grown out of control.
Not in a “I can’t manage them with product” kind of way.
But in a “No! Don’t put spaghetti (tacos, yogurt, dirt, sand, etc.) in your hair!” kind of way.
I can’t give him a bath every night. It isn’t good for his skin.
(And, bath time is my least favorite thing. Oh, he loves it and is great at being in the tub. But our bathroom is teeny tiny, and I have to twist & bend into weird contortions to take care of his hair, wash him, etc. Plus, by that time of day, I. Am. Done.)
So today we took our first trip to the barber shop. On the recommendations of another transracial family, we called the old fashioned barber shop downtown and got an appointment with Mr. William.
It is truly a classic barbershop, in every sense of the word. They even do the hot-towel straight-razor shaves, which is probably what Keith will get for Father’s Day!!
Mr. William plopped a barber’s booster seat and a bumbo into his chair. Little Man sat right there and behaved like a perfect little gentlemen. No tears, no fits, no twisting & turning. He was more fascinated than anything, and was completely happy to sit there. Even the buzzing razors didn’t bother him.
I am excited because this is something he can do over and over again as he grows up. I am excited because it is a tradition within his culture to experience the barbershop. And yes, I went today, but hopefully, from now on, it will be a father-son adventure.
But my baby is certainly gone. In his place is now a little boy:
When we got home, we popped him in the shower before heading to breakfast with our friends. Hair this length is certainly easier to take care of 🙂
Oh, and I didn’t cry.
At the barbershop.
I cried twice last night.
And I cried when one of my best friends came into breakfast and smiled at him and commented on what a little boy he is.
But I did collect enough hair to save for me and his birth mother.