I ain’t no Delilah.
O.K., I’ll admit it. I have an unhealthy attachment to Saint James’ hair. To me, the unruly mop in this picture is perfection. I have no trouble having my own hair cu, keeping Supergirl’s in a neat little pageboy, taking scissors to Devil Baby’s myself on occasion, but I feel like I die a little inside every time I take Saint James for a haircut. I just love a boy with shaggy hair. Always have and always will. Goes for big boys too. Every time Doctor Dash asks me to make a haircut appointment for him, I protest and pout and tell him it’s just starting to look perfect and who cares if he looks unprofessional, and maybe he could buy a short-haircut wig for when he has to see patients. And then I try the flattery approach and tell him he’s got great hair and a lot of guys would kill for his hair and he shouldn’t just waste his hair by keeping it short and he rolls his eyes and makes his own appointment.
Watching Saint James play soccer with his flippy pouf of hair makes my heart go pitter patter. If I look away, I can spot him again in an instant by his dirty-blond halo. It’s a beacon. That’s my son, I think proudly to myself. My beautiful boy.
Today is D-day. It sneaks up on me every year. I look at the calendar and school pictures are in a few weeks and he needs a haircut because even though his hair is perfect today, it will look ridiculously long in three weeks and it needs time to grow in so he doesn’t look like a complete dork in his pictures. This particular haircut is the most painful cut of the year because all the summer blond goes. The locks of cool chlorine and hot sun are lopped off, floating softly to the floor, making a blanket tinged in gold – the hair underneath left exposed, dark and unfamiliar. And as he emerges from the chair my heart skips a beat. Suddenly, I can see his face again. I can see his eyes again. He looks so much older, his features thinning out. I search for signs of my baby and see none – just flickering shades of a handsome older boy, just down the road a stretch, but fast approaching.
