Wednesday, April 19, 2006
My son has long hair for a boy. I like it that way. He loves his hair too. He's never had a blanky or a binky or a bear for comfort. He's always had my long hair and his own. He strokes his hair while he drinks his milk (when mine's not available). He walks around with one hand in the air, softly tugging at his strawberry tusses and the other hand on his bottle. He does the same as he drifts off to sleep at night. His hair gets knotted in the back, from tossing around in his sleep. Sometimes he struts around all morning with a great, big, rat's nest at the back of his head until I have a chance to comb it out. He also likes to wipe his hands in his hair. We've had mud, soap, baby food, finger paints and cream of wheat, which dries like cement, plastered into his hair. This morning he took his piece of buttered toast and wiped it on top of his head. His hair was greasy all day. He doesn't mind if I slick it back like Guido the Italian Mobster for my own amusement. Sometimes he'll throw a hat on his head for his morning walkabout. After all, it's just an accessory for his hair. We've been through some interesting looks, like the "back-of-the-head bald spot," "the comb over" and the "first haircut." For now we'll keep it long. I like it that way.