Speaking of how time flies when your life has been taken over by a demanding little creature who's every whim you're legally required to obey, Ezra got his first haircut today. Technically this is less a result of time flying and more a result of my baby growing hair like a chia pet, but still, monumental moment for our household.
The problem was this:
My baby, my darling little bear, was starting to look like he lived in the woods with the raccoons and a mud-caked old fur trapper who was teaching him how to catch fish with his teeth. Not exactly the look I was going for. The solution was to give him a little trim by hand. Naturally, being five and half months old and my son, he would not stop trying to see what we were doing long enough for even a single snip so it was time to call in the professionals or start getting used to call him Bubba. Fortunately there's a local haircut place that is specifically designed to lure your little monster into technicolor, candy coated, videogamed nightmare coma trance long enough to shave them bald.
More fortunately, he didn't really need any of it.
P>
That kid just likes people. So he did beautifully.
Sat patiently.
Ate his smock contemplatively.
And when all was said and done...
They'd trimmed away my baby.
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