Here’s Lookin’ At You, Kid
After I took this picture of Kenny yesterday, it became apparent that our little boy was starting to look a little too shaggy:
We had intended to get his first haircut on his birthday, but being a Saturday, we decided that the mall would be a little too crazy, so we postponed until today. Fortunately, Kenny loves having his hair brushed, so we figured it would be a breeze. We went to Cartoon Cuts, and Kenny was enthralled! First off, he’s never watched cartoons before, so that was pretty engaging. And his stylist was decked out in so much costume jewelry that she jingled as she moved, making that a nice distraction, too. So between the entertainment and the head massage, I think he would have stayed there all day if we had let him. Hm… maybe Mommy and Me spa trips in our future?
He looks absolutely adorable. His new cut makes him look every inch a little boy… our son is a baby no more! I tried to take some “after” pictures today when we got home, but he was feeling just as adorable as he looked, and couldn’t help himself from hamming it up a bit for the camera:
So you’ll have to take my word for it that his hair looks great.
Isn’t it funny that kids are able to pick up our emotions from us? I was giggling as we got in the car to leave the mall (he just looked so CUTE!) and he started cackling, too. As we drove home, I popped “ABBA” into the CD player, and as I’m bopping along and belting out “Waterloo,” I look in the rearview mirror, and there’s Kenny clapping (with the beat, no less), smiling and singing “Da Da DAAAAA” right along. When we got home, while I was trying to take pictures, he egged me on, a little catwalk ham in the making, and made a different face for each click of the shutter.
After the photo session, I put in another CD, and he walked around the house in his drunken sailor walk, clapping to the beat and stopping every few feet to dance. Kenny’s dancing consists of bucking his hips and doing the chicken-strut with his chin out. I kept trying to get it on video, but he would stop and look at me as if to say, “Please, Mommy, this isn’t Dancing With the Stars.”
And then strangely enough, all that joy and fun from our afternoon came to a screeching halt at five o’clock. Kenny’s internal clock is pretty accurate, and the five o’clock whistle tends to be his cue to turn from a charming little boy into a banshee. They don’t call it “the witching hour” for naught.
As I sit here at the end of the day, looking at these pictures and thinking about Kenny, I realize once again that he’s not a baby any more. He’s growing up before my eyes, and there’s no way to stop it. Makes it all the more bittersweet to enjoy every second.