The Haircut

This morning, we set out to accomplish one of the last remaining "no more baby" task: the first haircut.

Oh man, was it hard to work up the courage to take my baby into that little shop. It felt like a dead man walking moment, knowing that in a matter of moments, we would chop of the last remnant of baby left on boy.

Truth be told, I've been putting this off for months now -- just couldn't work up the nerve. But the hair was getting less and less cute and more and more unruly. We all knew it was time.

The final moments of those baby curls.

Cohen did better than I anticipated. He hated having to sit still. He wasn't a fan of having a stranger squirt water on his head. But despite the wiggling and squirming, he was a really good little customer.

And when we wised up and turned on the television with the silly cartoons? Forget about it, you could have done anything you wanted to that kid.

It took every bit of restraint I could muster to keep myself from sweeping up those sweet curls and stashing them in my diaper bag. I think the stylist saw me eyeing them, because she was so nice to save a few curls for me to take home (and I didn't have to compromise my dignity by crawling around on the floor). God bless her.

 And the best part of the whole trip? Why, candy, of course. He is my kid, after all. Cohen got a reward for being so good. Gosh, where did my baby go?