The battle for Dylan's locks has been in play since he first sprouted his reddish blond hair.
My husband has visions of "hockey hair".
I desperately want to avoid this.
So far my husband was winning. Except it's really, really, really hot here.
So everyday our little "hockey haired" 21 month old would SWEAT under all those locks.
And my husband finally relented and decided it was time for his first professional hair cut.
So where did we go?
Walmart of course.
He was a rockstar.
Even though we trapped his arms beneath a polyester animal printed smock.
Even though the stylist had the biggest mole on her nose this side of the Mason-Dixon.
Even though people were oooing and awing at his cuteness.
Even though she sprayed him with water and blasted him with a hair dryer.
He didn't utter a peep.
And the minute she was done he looked like 5 years older.
And it made me tear up.
Monday, June 21, 2010
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