The First (Hair)cut is the Deepest

I didn't do it. It's not that I chickened out -- quite the opposite, actually. I made the phone call to schedule Daniel's first haircut appointment, but the place I had chosen was booked solid. I guess a lot of parents were feeling brave on this sunny Saturday. A wave of disappointment came over me. I had committed to the idea of taking Daniel to get his hair cut, and it wasn't going to happen the way I hoped. The thought of doing it on his 18-month birthday was almost symbolic, and certainly memorable. A coming-of-age ritual, of sorts. But there was to be no cutting of Daniel's golden locks today. Maybe it was a sign.

Now that I've psyched myself up for this momentous occasion, however, there's no turning back in my mind. I've tentatively booked Daniel's haircut for next Saturday. Time and place of my choice. We'll call it his special "Hanukkah" haircut, I guess! I'm not worried that he'll be scared or freak out, just that he'll no longer look like my gorgeous little boy. I'm most afraid that he'll emerge from this haircut appointment looking like a (gulp!) BIG BOY. Now that he's 18-months old, I definitely can no longer call him a baby or an infant. He is a toddler, in every sense of the word. He's approaching 2 years old, after which his age will no longer be marked in months, but rather in years. From that point on, it's just a matter of time until he's in preschool. Holy crap.

This week I will remind myself to enjoy his "babyness." I'll run my fingers through his (still) silky curls, gently kiss his soft cheeks, and tickle his bony little chest. Because next weekend's milestone is just a haircut. His essence will remain the same for now. One day, however, not too far in the future, I'll greet my gorgeous little boy by looking up at him and realizing that he is bigger than me.