Today Peter got a bad haircut. I told the lady over and over how much I love his long hair, and that he just needed the tiniest of trims. She nodded her understanding, but judging by the finished product, she clearly didn't understand. He got a chop! I was so mad! I know that you're supposed to reserve your tears for the important stuff like children dying or people suffering, and I know that it's just hair and that it grows, and I know that in the scheme of things it's really a tiny, unimportant thing, but I will admit, I did cry over that haircut! And here's another confession........ I didn't even feel ridiculous doing it. Because sometimes, you don't want to be mature, or rational. Sometimes, it feels really good to succumb to those primal feelings of anger and disappointment. Then I rationalized, because maybe I was starting to feel a little ridiculous, that I must really love this boy if I'd cry over hair. And I do! I love his hair so much, because to me, it's not just hair.....it's him. It's charm, and sass, and style, and quintessential "little boy" before you get that "mature" short haircut. And then I cracked open that vulnerable door that you don't even want to think about. That door that houses how much you really do love your kids, and you can't even really fathom something seriously bad happening, because if you'd cry over hair, you completely go ballistic over the "big" stuff. And then, I did feel guilty and perspective set in. It is just hair. It will grow. It's okay. And I'll take a moment to breathe and to be thankful that I'm so very very fortunate that I have the luxury of making a big deal over a bad haircut.
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