Cousin It

I'm a hairy woman.  Stoofy is a pretty hairy guy.  When we were dating and engaged, I knew that we would eventually have a hairy child.

In fact when I was pregnant, I used to dream that Elly would come out looking like a monkey. 

What I pictured my unborn child to look like at birth

The doctor would hand her to me and then hand me shaving cream (extra sensitive, super-specially formulated for my minutes-old baby) and a razor and I would have to shave her before being weighed.  She would only need that initial shave and then would be fine until she became menopausal. 

So it was no surprise to me (given the amount of heartburn I had during my pregnancy) that she came out with a full head of hair.  I WAS surprised she didn't look more like a monkey. 

Although, Elly WAS born with hair on the top of her ears, like on the ridge of them.  She looked like an elf.  It actually took me about 2-3 hours of her life before I figured out that the hair I kept tucking behind her ears and under her cap was actually attached to her ears and not her head.  (Mother of the year already.)

It should be no surprise that she's got lots of hair now. In fact she's got longer hair than me.  In her nearly two years of life, I have yet to cut it.  I used to think people who never cut their kid's hair and let it grow past their kid's ass were nuts.  I mean, who lets a kid who can barely wipe on their own let their hair dangle back there and get in the way?  Gross.

But now that I'm faced with the milestone of her first hair cut, I just can't do it.  I'm prepared to let her hair grow to her kneecaps if I have to.  I'll just embrace her hair and dress her as Cousin It for Halloween. Shit, I'll even spring for the Repunzel costume if that's what it takes.



"AAAHHH! My hair is out of control!"



Why am I protesting the shears? Probably because the moment I cut her hair is the moment we can never go back. Once you get your first hair cut, that's it.  It's the end of the baby phase of her life.  It's the start of a whole new confusing part of life where you're desperately trying to get a "Rachel" hair cut when you have "Felicity" hair. It's the start of worring about all things coifed.

I'm not ready for it and I'm not ready for her to grow up.  I'll just buy more hair ties to keep her locks out of her yogurt in the morning.

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