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You had your first electric hair cut today, Jo. I couldn’t take it anymore. If you had any curl or wave in your hair, I’d love to let it grow a bit and get a little unruly. But your hair so stick straight it that it rests on top of your ears and pokes you in the eye balls like little baby hair daggers. So off it came, and you look quite the tiny man now! I love it.
You are breaking me of any tendencies toward public embarrassment. I’m not easily embarrassed, but you, my son, can rattle even the most confident of mothers. You are so loud, and cute, throwing tantrums one second and 5 later, laughing hysterically. You’re a little whirlwind of noise and emotion everywhere you go. It’s incredibly entertaining and occasionally mortifying. I brought you about 10 different snack options to keep you happy both during your hair cut and during Daddy’s, who followed right after, but you refused to sit (refused to sit *quietly*) so I let you walk around with it so that you would be slightly less deafening, and you dropped absolutely everything on the hair-covered floor before consuming it and you prattled and toddled around, shrieking, laughing, and being you. Disgusting and cute. But mostly gross. But you survived, although you annoyed some patrons and made others laugh.
We got out of there as quick as we could, and which point, you promptly quieted down. That’s how it goes. I love you, Noisy.
