We had been talking recently about having Adam's hair cut. It was pretty shaggy and hung over his ears like silkyfine tentacles. A few days ago I suggested to Tom that I cut his hair. How hard could it be? It's not like he cares what he looks like. My suggestion was met with a "No way are you getting next to our son's head with scissors" look. So I dropped it. Then, this morning when we were at the Commissary, Tom said, "You know, I could just cut his hair." Sigh. "That's a good idea!"
My mom taught me two things about marriage I'll never forget. One of them was: if you want your husband to think your idea is a good idea, make him think it was his idea first.
So Adam got his hair cut after his nap this afternoon. Tom used a razor for the long pieces, and I trimmed around his neck and ears while he watched Mickey Mouse. I got a little carried away on those ear-hanging tendrils over the left ear, but the right side looks pretty good.
His big boy hair cut coupled with his transition to a bed from his crib yesterday is piling up in the mommy ventricle of my heart. It's getting a little heavy in there and, though I don't usually cry, I'm not making any promises. One more milestone and the dam is sure to leak!