My youngest turned four just a month ago. She was bald (bald bald bald!) for a long time, and when she did finally start growing hair, it had this amazing, adorable perfect curl to it. Water and humidity make ringlets appear, and with the wispiness of her more kid-hair growing as it glows in a solid back-light, I have often found myself drawn just to photograph her glowing, amazing hair. She’s been growing it as long as she can, she says, “just like Rapunzel.”
And now she’s decided it’s time. Time for a haircut. Something to keep it off her neck, she says. We’re very much in the “you get to decide about your hair as long as its safe and healthy” camp in this house. So, we’ve got an appointment for later this week. And those curls are going to disappear, I’m pretty sure.
As a (very) short-haired gal myself, I get wanting shorter hair, but there’s a part of my mama-ness that is going to be grappling with this lump in my throat just a little bit this week. I’ll bring my envelope to tuck a few of those curls away into her baby book.
All the best,