So all my kids appear to have inherited my insanely wild and thick hair, in texture if not in color. This means that a certain baby/toddler has been long overdue for a haircut for a few months now. And this past weekend, while the older kids were bowling with their cousins, Jim and I bravely got out the trimming scissors and took him from this...
It was basically the hack job you must expect when trying to wield scissors around a squirmy baby's eyes, of course, plus he has this funny cowlick thing on top of his head that meant when his hair was wet it really did look straight across his forehead, but when it dried it was, y'know, not so much with the evenness. So I just keep sort of swooping it off to the side and tousling it a bit. Also, it's really hard to get good pictures of a haircut when every time your kid sees the camera he flings his head backwards and begins cheesing like he's trying to win an award for The World's Most Enthusiastic Smile.
In the meantime he just looks very very old and I am sadder than I've ever been about a kid's haircut. He's been acting pretty toddler-ish for awhile, but now he even looks like one. Oh, Jamie James. I wish you could've stayed a baby for a little longer.