Monday, 14 March 2011
To be fair, he has had it quite long for the last year or two. I think he wanted to have hair like our friends' son's, who came to babysit at our old house. He was a mini-god in my son's eyes!
Unfortunately, our babysitter had straight, dark hair. His cut was very Beatles-esque: clearly stylish, well-kept. My 10-year-old Son's original blonde has darkened over the years. His hair suffers from running around, never being washed (unless under force and duress) and general boy behaviour.
But none of that would matter. His biggest problem is that he has inherited his father's curls.
Now, to look at his father you would never think he had curls. His preferred cut is a number 3 all over (or perhaps a number 2). His problem is hair loss, not hair gain.
But Son has curls, and the longer the hair gets the more noticeable they are. It makes the hair stick out at funny angles and, in the morning, is quite wild. They aren't ringlets (like Ryan Sidebottom, pictured above) nor are they tight Afro, but they are not loose enough just to hang in a wave.
We tolerate the lengthening hair well. No, I lie. I tolerate it well. My husband hates it and is longing to give him a number 3 all over (or, as a concession, a number 4!)
And so it was with trepidation that I sent them to the hairdressers together on Saturday. I fear my husband dictating the style. My more laid-back approach is that my Son is the one who has to live with it, be ridiculed at school or get frustrated by its mess. If this is his rebellion against his parents then I can cope with it! (I am dreading teenage years...)
Back to Saturday. Apparently the girl looked at my son and said, "We've got to get rid of these curls!"
A few snips later and he has a lovely, smart haircut. Curl-free.
Son doesn't like it.
It isn't as short as his father would like, but the length at the back has gone. On top there is still some volume and I can't deny that he looks great. So I tell him that, and reassure him that his hair will grow again.
Then I wonder. There's my son: losing his curls. And here am I: contemplating getting them put in.
Why are we never satisfied with what we have?