When I was about 4 my worshiped-older sister, Julie, told me something amazing. She picked up the golden end of my long braid, tickled me on my nose with it and said, "Did you know that this blond hair on the end of your braid is your baby hair? It is the exact same hair that was on your head when you were a baby."
I was gobsmacked. I loved babies, and the idea that I was one once was mind boggling to me at that age. I loved hearing about "me as a baby", and here I held in my own peanut-butter-smeared mitt an artifact from my very own infancy.
When I was seven and my mother tried to "give me a trim" I nearly ran away from home. It was the last shred of evidence that I had ever truly been a baby! My parents didn't develop film too often. We had to go on faith that anything they actually said was true. I still have my doubts about Disneyland. I could be wrong, but I think they may have just taken us to one of those scary parking lot carnivals. Micky looked more rat than mouse.
Enough with my dreary childhood, and on to the dreary childhoods of they who share my DNA...
I cut Jonah's hair. He's not a baby anymore. His long, super-straight in the front, slightly curly in the back, goldy-golden locks have been shorn, and like Sampson, it stole away his power. Baby power.
Well, maybe not all of it. There is the pooping in his pants thing, not so much a power as a secret weapon. And that whole breastfeeding situation (yes, we are going for the Guiness on that one). But frankly, that is more my super-power than his. He is more like my side kick, and like Spidey makes webs, I make milk.
But the baby look is gone. "Oh!" people exclaim, "He looks like a little boy!" which is better than him looking like a girl, I suppose. Ellen held nothing back, "Oh! I don't like his haircut!" She spontaneously blurted the moment she saw him. Good thing his hairdresser didn't take it personally.
I kind of have to agree. I don't like his haircut either, with all that it implies. I cut away the baby bits of him, and it left me with the big boy that was hiding under that blondy fringe.
Well, he's still a looker.