The time had finally come. We couldn’t put it off any longer. It was time for my son’s first haircut. I kept delaying the inevitable. Partially because I didn’t want to let go. Let go of the baby. But mostly because we knew he was going to be a royal a-hole for it. After the third time of being called a little girl by strangers, I gave in. It was time for his transformation into an official “big boy”.
We went over to the local mall to a place called Kidsnips. It is a salon/toy store. Kids can sit in little cars, watch their favorite movie, and indulge on lollipops while getting their haircut. In all honesty, I really didn’t think any of this would make a difference. My partner and I knew he was going to be a frickin’ nightmare. Both attempts to cut his bangs at home turned into a rodeo. But then again, I don’t blame him. I would probably act out too if I saw someone coming at my face with large orange handled scissors. (Parenting fail…It’s all I have damn it!)
Positioned directly in front of the large window where all the mall patrons could witness the shit storm, our son proved us wrong! He was awesome! He sat so still, watching Mickey Mouse Club House, eating his Cotton Candy flavored lollipop. The stylist was stealth like and swift. It was over before we knew it.
And then it hit me. Hard.
My baby is now a little boy.
From the front, he is still my baby. Same adorable face. But when he walks away, with his short little boy cut, I don’t recognize him.
He is officially a little boy.
Another milestone completed. Another first gone. And this makes me sad.
Sad because somewhere in the pit of my stomach, in the very depth of my soul, I know he is our first and last child. There may never be anymore firsts. After two failed pregnancies, I’m uncertain about trying again. I’m terrified of a third loss. I don’t think either of us could handle it. Part of me just wants to stop but the other part wants to try again otherwise their losses were for nothing. It’s a constant inner dilemma.
I am certain parents that have completed their families feel the same way. I’m sure there is some sense of relief that all of the hard stages are over. Yet, I know there is sadness that those stages will never be revisited again.
Should our son be our last child though, I couldn’t be more proud of the little boy he is becoming. He is truly an amazing little guy. Trust me, he gives us a run for our money and wine is a staple in our house, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.
At least he looks handsome.
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