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paul had his first professional haircut today. he was so good! he sat in the chair, he mugged silently in the mirror, he held his head reasonably straight and he made no fuss at all. i was shocked. i was totally expecting a tantrum, tears -- a generally miserable experience. my astonishment knew no bounds.

the guy who cut his hair was very nice. i don't know that he was very good at cutting hair, but he was nonthreatening and he didn't make paul freak out, so let's just say that he was... nice.

paul's hair is so short. short-short. he doesn't look like my baby anymore. big cheeseball that i am, i started crying at dinner. paul made a sad face and asked, "what's wrong with me?" we reassured him that nothing was wrong with him, so i tried a bit harder to restrain the tears. looking at his shorn head later on, i said, "it's like i'm sending him off to war!"

paul: war!

his hair is cute. it is cute. really, it is, but i'm just so used to his joey lawrence-esque mop that this is a shock (plus it now has the ability to stand on end, so he looks like he's in shock as well). i know it's just hair and it'll grow back, but i'm mourning the loss of all of that silky shiny baby hair. it's the end of an era. no more home haircuts for this boy.



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