Yesterday Bastian had his first haircut, and I have been grappling with how to describe that experience in words. Explaining why exactly mothers get SO attached to their little ones hair... and I can't. I just can't. All I know is that they (the ends of hair that were snipped) were the beginning of something that will be in constant motion for a long, long time forwards. The first pieces to curl and twist... tangle, even become noticeably visible to all those people who loved asking "when is that boy gonna grow some hair?" The very ends of which being the only hair he had when he was born. Probably some of the only cells that haven't much changed since then, aside from the distance from his scalp of course. It's similar (but so very different) to that first haircut post wedding when you realize while staring at the clippings on the floor that "this is the hair I got married in!"
Then there is the whole, he's a boy no longer a baby thing. A boy who needs haircuts. A boy who washes his own hands, brushes his own teeth and as of two days ago, occasionally pees in the potty! I feel like yelling "Why did nobody tell me this was going to happen", but the truth is that they did. There was just no way I could have known just what they meant. And I will continue to not know... until suddenly I do. By force. Because really there is no other way.
And all I will have to show for it is these blurry pictures and a few curls neatly tucked away in an envelope somewhere. Don't snicker, you know you have one too.
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