Dear Max

So last week I decided to take you for a trim, even after the poll on this blog showed a very strong no to lobbing off your locks. So I thought I’d go the quarter road, and take you for a trim, just to neaten and get you looking like your mom actually tends to you and brushes your hair every week or so. And everyone knows, that the word “trim” in hairdresser speak actually means “please cut as much as you’d like off, and go wild with the scissors. You’re the boss”.

And that’s how it felt as your blonde curls got hacked off (allow me some drama here) and fell into my lap (and iPad, on which you were playing in order to distract you from the irritation and boredom of getting your hair cut). And I sat and got quite teary about the change, but then once it was done and most of your tresses dusted off my lap and iPad, I looked at you, and realised how cute/handsome/grown-up you look with your new fro. Your hair looks in good shape (after years of working on women’s magazines I should know that a great cut does this), and you look like a gorgeous well-kempt little dude. Your dad loves it too.

And as the old saying goes, hair can always grow back. But let’s face it, it never really does the same… and often there’s nothing wrong with that.

Here’s a look:

Before

Just after (you even got a sucker)

Some more handsomeness…

Your new bedhead...

Building a Lego tower taller than you at Sci-Bono

Love you,
xMom

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