Snip snip.

The first time I saw my Mr. Baggins I was shocked to to see all of the lovely hair on the top of his head. After Bug was born, I grew quite fond of little bald babies, and her shiny little noggin will always be the cutest bowling ball I've ever seen, but HAIR! I grew a baby with hair!

Maybe it was all the excitement about it, I don't know, but it really hadn't occurred to me that anyone in the world wouldn't be head over heels for those floppy long locks, even 5 months (FIVE MONTHS! IMPOSSIBLE!) later. Bug didn't need a haircut for, I don't know, like 18 months or something, so I forgot that maybe things might look a little scraggly.

Finally, Daddy grew tired off the crazy professor look, and with his encouragement, the silly long strands on top had their execution date set.

We set up shop in the kitchen this morning. It takes a real man to look that confident in a bright pink Bumbo seat. 

Never once would my teenage mind have imagined I'd catch that much slobber in my hand without even flinching. Proof that kids make you insane.

Once I got the hair wet and tried combing it back, I conceded that it really did look pretty ridiculous. Point one for Daddy.

A few clips later, and my man is sporting a very handsome shorter 'do. Couldn't you just DIE?

If he's missing later, it's because I smeared some peanut butter on his round little cheeks and ate him whole. Admit it, you'd do the same.