It was time.
It wasn't because in the last week, he was mistaken for a she a half a dozen times.
It wasn't because we wanted a change.
It was because the humidity here in KC is gone, and his curls weren't springing up anymore, and he was walking into walls because he couldn't see.
I prepared myself. I made a silent promise that I wasn't going to be that mother.....the one that goes into the barber shop and reads the stylist the riot act about how much to take off, and make sure you don't lose his curls, and he's not that fond of water on his face, so please be careful.
Thank GOD the second we sat down, she pretty much told me that she didn't want to take too much off, and that she hasn't cut her own son's curly hair yet.
The little dude did pretty well. Yes, there were tears, but he didn't try to get off of the chair (something I swore he was going to do the entire haircut).
The most hysterical part of it all, was when the owner came over to talk to Addison. This guy has longer rock star-ish curly hair, and as soon as Addison saw him, he calmed down. It was as if he knew that he was in good hands.
And then we got him his first tattoo.