Lopped the Little Man's Locks Off

For some time now Scott and I have been debating whether or not Marcus needed a haircut. It was blatantly obvious he did, but I don't think either one of us was ready to admit our little man was "old enough" to have his locks lopped off.

This weekend we decided it was time. Scott wanted to find just the right barber. I just wanted someone who would do it. If I dilly-dallied long enough finding the "right" person I knew I'd back out. Like ripping off a band-aid, I knew we just needed to do it.

To the hair salon we went.

The before shot. Look at that shaggy mop.
We tried to bribe him with snacks. Yes, we went there. 

Just as I suspected, the whole experience was a hot mess. Marcus didn't want to sit still. The sound of several hair dryers kept drawing his attention, lots of fussing and whining, and every time the stylist went to cut his hair he'd jerk around. Nothing less than what I'd expected.

Obviously thrilled.

There are a few spots that still need a little work (around his ears especially). When you have sharp scissors in one hand and wrestling with equivalent of a sack of snakes with the other hand, there's only so much you can do before you throw in the towel and call it good.

After it was all done I was scrambling around the chair trying to scoop up and save as many little hair locks as possible. I didn't shed any tears like I thought I would, but I'm sure seeing me saving tiny little pieces of blond hair was a bit of a spectacle.

Just like that it feels like our baby grew up in a matter of minutes, and right before our eyes.

So fresh and so clean.
He looks like a little boy and not a baby. I'm still trying to adjust.