Shave & a Haircut, 5-Cents. Just a haircut, free.

There are two different kinds of first involved in raising a child. There’s the kind of first where she accomplishes something, like taking her first steps or saying her first words. Parents are very proud when their children achieve these milestones, or at least that’s what I’ve heard. Then there’s the kind of first where the parents do something with/to their child for the first time, like first trip to the zoo or first time out. Yesterday we experienced one of the latter kinds of firsts: First haircut.

Ever since the ultrasound technician pointed out Abbie’s hair flapping in the uterusian breeze that is amniotic fluid, Abbie has always sported a full head of hair. While other infants dropped their hair like a pre-toddler George Costanza, Abbie’s hair kept growing. So looked so adorable that I never wanted to cut it, preferring to let it grow and tie it back with braids or pins when the need arose. The result could be something like Cousin It, but much cuter.

For her first several months of life, Abbie’s hair grew at the perfect pace, precisely the same rate as her head, giving her a proportionally perfect head of hair. Shortly after her first birthday though, something changed. Her bangs started growing over her eyes because her hair started growing faster or her head started growing slower. I’m betting on the former because I have a hard time believing her head can afford to slow down and still house that ego. In less than six months, her bangs have grown from this:



To this:



And that picture is a month old. If we waited another month, she might not be able to feed herself with her bangs in the way. I’d clip her hair back like I originally hoped, but those dreams were shattered at birth when I discovered that her hair was too fine to hold a clip. We’re still waiting for her hair to thicken. Perhaps some mousse-like product would help.

I’ve been threatening to cut her hair for few weeks. Abbie stops me every time by wildly fidgeting whenever I bring the scissors close enough to do some damage. Call me a wuss, but I don’t have the courage to close two sharp blades together next to her face while she thrashes about. I’m afraid I might poke an eye out and in the process lose the potential to threaten, “you’re going to poke your eye out” when she does something dangerous in the future. On the other hand, I would gain the ability to more effectively threaten the twins when they do something hazardous.*

Yesterday I finally snapped watching Abbie brush her hair aside to spot the Tasteeos on her tray. I wised up and grabbed a comb to protect her face, grabbed the scissors, and went to work. After a couple snips, Ellie walked into the kitchen with an expression reflecting relief that someone was finally cutting her hair, and horror that I was that someone.

Ellie held Abbie’s head still while I cut, allowing me to clip her bangs in a pattern resembling a straight line. I had already trimmed a couple hairs too close to the scalp, but that’s okay because it just gives her hairline the irregular look that’s so popular with the kids these days. At least that’s what Ellie told me.

I didn’t do much to cut her hair, just shortened the bangs to a little above eye level. We didn’t even have enough loose hair to sweep up afterwards, it just melded with the omnipresent pet hair floating about the kitchen to form slightly larger hairballs. Ellie still grabbed a lock of the loose hair with tape to fasten into her baby book, because we have to remember all the firsts.

* “Do you want to lose an eye just like your sister? That’s how she lost her eye, swinging sticks like that.”