Of Hair

I just knew, from the moment I learned I was growing a boy in my womb, that he would have a head of hair, just to spite me and the fact that I had to wait a whole two years before I could stick a barrette on the head of my darling girl - and even that only stays for (maybe) ten minutes before sliding right out.

Sure enough, out came my Emmett with adorable stick-straight hair poking out all over.  From the first time I saw him, that precious hair (besides the obvious anatomy structures) has been what distinguished him as a boy.  It just has that little-boy look to it.  And I love it.

I love the way it feels, soft and fuzzy, after a bath; how it glitters with hidden flecks of gold when the light hits it just right; the way it sways loosely when we dangle him upside down and he giggles away; I even love the little baby comb-over we do in the back to hide his bald spot.

I will definitely shed a tiny tear when I have to take scissors to that boy's adorable locks.  But for now I simply let it run wild and loose, just like my little crawler himself.