Hair!

So, my 2.5 year old son has never really had his official first haircut. Sure, mom has trimmed it around his eyes so he can see, but beyond that...he often is referred to as she rather than he. Which, by the way, I am totally okay with. Actually, I am more than okay with it...I LOVE IT! The reasons I love it and reasons why his hair has grown to the cool rock star length are threefold.

First, it just looks cool! Think David Beckham meets Bam Bam, and you now know what my son looks like -- unlike his dear old dad who the hair of a chia pet. I admit it, I totally have hair envy of the little dude! There is something about his uncontrollable lettuce that speaks to his zest for life, his personality. The way he sky dives off the fifth step, landing on the hardwood floor in the living room, hair flying forward -- then, through his locks as he raises his head, you see the beaming ear-to-ear smile! AWESOME!!!! "Do it again, Dad?" is what he quickly asks. And, off he goes to sky dive some more. Gotta love it!

Second reason -- my dad never let me have long hair growing up. Rebellion comes in strange ways, right? My dad is a product of the 50's. Graduated in 1955, loves his oldies on the radio, and was and still is a believer boys should look like boys and girls should look like girls. Every summer, the ritual was to haul me off to Killer Kane, the local barber/real estate mogul, where I would get my classic crew cut. The one summer I was old enough to be left alone at Killer's, I said, "Mr. Kane, will you please not take as much off and leave a little more on the top?"
"Sure thing!" he said with a smile as he clicked in the number 2 vs. number 1 clipper head.
My mom picked me up that day. When my dad got home and saw the haircut, it was in back in the car and off to Killer's for the real deal crew cut, not my hybrid version. If you can't tell, the scars run deep on that childhood incident. Now, I am the dad. Not to say my dad's methods were wrong, I just prefer the beat of a different drum with my son. Plus, I know it bugs my dad beyond words. How do I know this? Every time I see him and he sees my kid, "When are you going to get that kid a haircut?" I just smile and hand him his Coors Light as he enters the door. Sorry dad! Love ya!

The last reason and most important, my wife and I don't want our son to grow-up! Holding onto the long hair means he is still our little guy, our baby! Call me crazy, but I want my kids to stay little as long as possible. This past weekend we had potty training boot camp. My wife nearly cried when he put on the Bob the Builder underpants. No more diapers means no more cute little bubble butt running around. Just like that, he went from diapers to big boy pants, next thing it will be nature pees standing up, sinking cheerios in the toilet, and driving! Stop the madness, stay two forever, son!

Back to the hair. This weekend, we are toying with getting the first real haircut. It won't really be real -- what I mean is that we are keeping it long and taking him to my wife's stylist who is going to make sure the Shaggy locks stay shaggy and fun. We don'[t want anything to serious. After all, my son is two. He has his whole life to have the serious short cut of his dad. Right now, he is Tarzan and king of his own jungle! Who wouldn't want to be king!

For now, I say... "Long live the rock star locks of my fantastically cool kid!" Stay king of your jungle forever!