to cut or not to cut?
The little blond cherub in the middle, staring at the camera is Mitchie. He turned three on the 17th and may I say he's adorable. I say that in the most unbiased way imaginable. It's true. He's frickin' cute. The way he hugs is cute, the way he putters about his day is cute, the way he tries to get out of getting in trouble for being naughty is cute. It actually is. He grins and peers at me from the corners of his eyes and his little fluffy hair frames his cute, grinning, naughty face.
About his hair. It's longish, and curly and bleached blond. He's the bleachedest, blondest of all my kids. He's kind of pretty. When he runs his curls bounce.
Today at Walmart the cashier asked me to move her (Mitchie) out of the way so she could scan a larger item in my cart. Poor Mitchie. He totally could be a girl if you didn't know he wasn't. I should maybe cut that mop, but it's so sweet! It's bad enough that he's three already, if I cut his hair he'll really look like a big boy. The fluffy moppy hair keeps him looking like a little boy.
I got thinking today that I should leave it until Halloween and dress him up like a rag doll. I'm guessing that in years to come that kind of thing won't fly, but for now...
Then I may cut it. Maybe.