Me Big Now
I cut my daughter's hair for the first time tonight. She's two, already--two and a quarter, to be exact--but her hair has grown in so slowly, that this was the first time it needed a trim.
For a little while now I'd noticed that her hair was in her eyes, and for some reason I held back on cutting it. Upon reflection, I think maybe on some subconscious level, I knew that it was one more right of passage on the road from baby to child, just like transitioning from a crib to a bed (done!), and giving up the pacifier (not done, but that's another post). And maybe I wanted to hold on to her baby self for just a little bit longer. But tonight, as I watched her brush her hair out of her eyes for the millionth time, it was like something clicked in my head, and I knew that it was time.
"Little bean," I said, "is your hair in your eyes?"
"Yes, Mommy, " she said, nodding solemnly.
"Do you want Mommy to cut your hair?" I asked, almost hoping she would say no.
"Yes, Mommy," she said again.
I grabbed a small pair of scissors, brushed her bangs down flat, and gently wrapped the scissors around her soft, honey-colored locks. The tiniest bit of hair fell into my hands, and I debated whether I should save it in a ziploc bag, or whether that was too crunchy granola for me. In the end I saved it. One day she might want to look at it, and she will ask me to tell her the story of her first haircut, and I will tell her how trimming a few strands of her hair nearly moved her softie of a mother to tears.
"You're a big girl, now," I told her later, as we lay in her bed reading before she went to sleep. I ran my hand over her new, big-girl bangs, and leaned over to kiss her cheek, trying not to cry.
Then she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, that are at once so sweet and so curious, and I could see that she was filled with pride. "Yes, Mommy," she said, with a huge smile on her face. "Me big now!"
For a little while now I'd noticed that her hair was in her eyes, and for some reason I held back on cutting it. Upon reflection, I think maybe on some subconscious level, I knew that it was one more right of passage on the road from baby to child, just like transitioning from a crib to a bed (done!), and giving up the pacifier (not done, but that's another post). And maybe I wanted to hold on to her baby self for just a little bit longer. But tonight, as I watched her brush her hair out of her eyes for the millionth time, it was like something clicked in my head, and I knew that it was time.
"Little bean," I said, "is your hair in your eyes?"
"Yes, Mommy, " she said, nodding solemnly.
"Do you want Mommy to cut your hair?" I asked, almost hoping she would say no.
"Yes, Mommy," she said again.
I grabbed a small pair of scissors, brushed her bangs down flat, and gently wrapped the scissors around her soft, honey-colored locks. The tiniest bit of hair fell into my hands, and I debated whether I should save it in a ziploc bag, or whether that was too crunchy granola for me. In the end I saved it. One day she might want to look at it, and she will ask me to tell her the story of her first haircut, and I will tell her how trimming a few strands of her hair nearly moved her softie of a mother to tears.
"You're a big girl, now," I told her later, as we lay in her bed reading before she went to sleep. I ran my hand over her new, big-girl bangs, and leaned over to kiss her cheek, trying not to cry.
Then she looked up at me with those beautiful eyes, that are at once so sweet and so curious, and I could see that she was filled with pride. "Yes, Mommy," she said, with a huge smile on her face. "Me big now!"
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