Jake got his first haircut last night, from me. His hair has been coming in a bit unevenly, which wasn’t much of a surprise because his sister’s hair came in exactly the same way. They are the children of natural mullets. Business on top, party in the back. Lane’s hair on top of her head still has a lot of catching up to do.
Jake was just starting to look a little funny. Part Billy Ray Cyrus, part Friar Tuck. So I trimmed him up last night, and it came out OK. It’s not noticeably crooked, it doesn’t look like the Jim Carrey character in Dumb and Dumber, and I didn’t draw any blood so I’m chalking it up as a success.
A lot of parents get all misty-eyed at those sorts of moments — first steps, first words, first haircuts, first R-rated movie… I don’t. Oh, every now and then I give my kids a cuddle and lament that they are growing up too quickly. But I do love the growing up. I love seeing Lane put on her own socks. I love seeing Jake take steps with greater confidence as days go by. And yes, I’ll admit it, a small part of my heart aches a little, but mostly I’m cheering them on and thrilled to bits that I am raising capable human beings.