My sweet baby, whom I always refer to as my baby even though he is no longer my baby, has new hair. He has always had old hair, the hair we let grow and then cut, just a little though and not too much. A few weekends ago, right before church, I'd had it with the strands in his eyes and took a number 4 to his head. Wow. It's official. He is grown up. Can't you tell?
Next month we'll be sending him off to school, through crocodile tears and gut-wrenching pleas(my own of course). Pretty soon he'll be an adolescent, breaking girls hearts (besides my own of course). We'll send him off on a mission, he'll come back married with 3 kids and I'll still be standing in the bathroom, holding tufts of his beautiful, soft, straight brown hair, regretting that thing I did when I cut off his hair. I changed him from my baby into a man with one fell swoop of the clippers.
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