William's First Big Boy Haircut

We marked yet another rite of passage today. William got his very first Official Haircut. A Big Boy Haircut, in fact. I've been snipping off stray pieces of hair, here and there, with my nail scissors since last fall, but it was time for a real haircut. So I took him to the beauty parlor on base for the big event.

And how silly is this? As I was driving to the salon, I started to get nervous! I mean, William really doesn't have that much hair. There was really only so much that anyone could really do to it. So why was I feeling all jittery? I don't get nervous before his doctor's appointments anymore. And I've even become somewhat fatalistic about my own hair appointments (after weathering a few disasters, including one chronicled here last July). So there I was, clenching the steering wheel and shaking my head over the butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

And of course, I was all prepared to put up my dukes in defending the "no high-and-tight under any circumstances" line, too.

No need to worry, it turned out. Miss Nancy was all ready for him. No one else was even in the salon, so it was nice and quiet and non-chaotic. The perfect environment for a young man about to experience his first haircut (and his anxious mother). And Nancy was the perfect person to cut a young child's hair for the first time. She sat William on this neat wooden horse thing so he'd be positioned correctly. Then she showed him the cape and pointed out all the animals printed on it: the monkeys, the elephants, etc. And then she got to work.

































He looks a little solemn here, doesn't he?




















But there were no tears, no crying, no shrieking. And William was really good, too. (Heh.)

In fact, the whole thing only took about ten minutes. Nancy sprayed his hair occasionally with a spray bottle with a polar bear on top, and William liked that a lot.















She talked to him, told him how he was going to look like such a big handsome boy when she was finished. (But of course, right?)



















Meanwhile, I was clicking madly away, taking picture after picture. During my career as a journalist, I learned from both professional photographers and personal experience that the best way to get a good photograph is to take a bunch. If you take 20 photos, you might get one or two really good ones. But if you only take one, well, you're gambling. Digital cameras are a godsend. Especially when you're trying to capture the elusive and ever-changing expressions on your child's face.

The shutterbugging also had the effect of dampening my nervousness. I was too busy to worry about the scissors.















Nancy moved quickly and gently, and before either of us knew it, it was done!



















While I oohed and aahed over this little boy who suddenly looked so grown up, Nancy gathered all the little wispy blonde locks and put them in an envelope for me to take home. Unfortunately she was out of certificates for boys, but she gave one of the girl's certificates, just in case.

Doesn't he look good? I think William looks a lot more like David, now that he's got a big boy haircut.




















The best after-photo:



















So whew! We got through that, and it was just fine. So many things seem to turn out Just Fine, no matter how much energy I expend worrying about them in advance. There's a lesson to be learned in that. Mothers-to-be who are reading this, you might want to remember that, too. (You know, along with the other important lessons, which are Learn to Love the Bouncy Seat and Always Pack Stuff In Case You Get Stranded in Dallas. And wear sunscreen. Okay, that's not really a lesson. But it's still good advice.)