Not the Hair

Yesterday I posted about my 4 year old’s adventures with scissors and his hair. When I posted, I just wanted to CRY and clearly hadn’t had time to process anything.

There are a few things I want to remember when I look back on this day.

1. He cut his hair first thing in the morning in the craziness of getting ready for school on the day I had a parent teacher interview with my daughter’s teacher before school. Clearly that made it more stressful than it actually was. My daughter’s teacher was awesome about my imminent meltdown and was totally calming. We had a nice chat that was full of encouragement about the progress my daughter has made over the past few months. This was a good part of the day.

2. There was a hilarious moment when Edward Scissor Hands decided that we should try to glue the hair back on his head and we had to explain to him how that wouldn’t work.

3. There’s the moment I discovered the two snips worth of hair missing from the back of his baby brother’s head as well…and while he denied it at first, the moment that he decided to take responsibility for his actions and gave a heartfelt apology to his brother and to me.

4. I WANT to forget how angering it was to have the hair dresser that was trying to fix his hair multiple times refer to his previous hair cut as “girl hair” and how much it was her goal to make it more boyish so people wouldn’t assume he was a *shudder* girl,  IN SPITE of me every time replying, “this haircut and its length were his choice and we thought he looked beautiful”. BUT I don’t want to forget how proud it made me when, in front of that hairdresser, I said, “sorry baby, after you have this hair cut it won’t be long enough for pigtails anymore but it will grow back if you choose to grow it long again” and he looked me in the eyes (with just a little hint of sadness) and said, “I know.”

5. I don’t want to forget our ride home from the hairdressers when I asked him about the poem they were doing in class that week and he told me it was about “Little Miss Muffet, sat on her tuffet, eating her turds away”. And I want to remember that I managed not to laugh out loud.

6. I want to remember the next morning when he woke early and was sitting on the toilet and I snuck in the bathroom to sit across from him. I don’t want to forget the moment he looked up at me as if he was still peeking through bangs. And with his crazy scruffy dried all over morning hair, he whispered, “hi mom. Is it morning yet?” and he gave me his goofy little grin and he looked like my boy again. The one that seemed to look so foreign the day before. And the first thought I had was, “he looks like one of the werewolf cubs from Hotel Transylvania.” And it suited him so perfectly that suddenly everything seemed okay again. And then even though it wasn’t really time to get up yet, he didn’t go back to his bed but came and half slept, cuddling in our bed until the alarm went off.

7. I want to remember the moment right after I saw it for the first time and he saw tears forming in my eyes and his eyes filled too. I want to remember how carefully he climbed into my lap and hugged me as our tears rolled down our cheeks. “It’s only hair”, I whispered to him.

8. But mostly I want to remember the conversation we had later that night. His sister was being awesome and playing with the baby so it was just he and I. We were half doing a homework activity (with SCISSORS) and half chatting. Our conversation came around to the topic of forgiveness. I asked him if we forgive in our house – to which he replied “NO!”. I snickered and asked if he knew what forgiveness was – and again he said no. I told him that forgive is what you do when someone makes a mistake. When even if you’re still sad and even though it was not an okay thing to do, you’re not mad anymore. And again we talked about how I’m not mad at him, how I love him, how even though I’m sad I forgive his mistake. And I so hope that he learned something in that moment – because if he did, it’s probably worth it.