I have always loved Eric's hair. Mine is wavy in all the wrong places and is a weird, mousy-brown color. Eric has thick, straight, brown-black hair that has always reminded me of a horse's mane. I think we have his Native American ancestors to thank for his one-in-a-million head of hair. In high school, I once made Eric grow his hair out because I couldn't bear to think of it being wasted by a haircut. He ended up with a bizarre bowl-shaped style and I'm no longer allowed to help him with decisions like that.
In any event, one of the things I desperately hoped for my unborn baby was to be blessed with his/her father's gorgeous hair. Mine is a legacy that needed to be snuffed out. I chose to listen to the old wives tales and look at my incessant pregnancy heartburn as a good thing - it was a sure sign of a baby with a lot of hair!
Sure enough, Sam was born with a full head of beautiful black hair (hallelujah!). At the time, we thought he had so much of it, and now I look at his baby pictures and think it looks quite sparse. At the very least I can admit he was never bald.
I attempted Sam's first haircut when he was about six months old. The pieces hanging over his ears were driving me crazy and I simply snipped them off with a regular pair of scissors. Since then, his haircuts have become much more complex, not to mention much more combative. The kid is 13 months old and does not have the slightest interest in sitting quietly to let me clean him up a bit.
In desperation, I started giving him haircuts while he is in the tub. With a pair of manicure scissors in one hand, I wildly grab hunks of hair and snip away until he manages to wriggle out of my grasp. This process works surprisingly well for us. Last night I gave Sam his fourth haircut and he looks like a sweet, clean, tidy little boy.
Just as long as no one notices the bald patch behind his right ear.
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