Because I like tormenting myself at least once a week, I finally decided to have Boober's hair cut. It was time, the husband liked to remind me, because people were asking, "Oh. Um, sooo cute. Is that a boy or a girl?" Never mind the head to toe blue and various manly vehicular appliques that Boober's clothing is adorned with, his hair was past his ears. What the hell gender is that there kid?
But I acquiesced. And the only reason I did is because Boobers was sporting one hell of a mullet. To no fault of anyone, his hair had failed to grow a lot on top, but it was ALL party in the back. A slightly curly, stringy party. I don't mind longer hair on boys, but there will be no mullets in this house.
So without further ado, the before. Before pictures are easy because Boobers is always running away from the camera.
And the afters. Look at those damn eyelashes. Jealous?
On a related note, I now have three envelopes of varying shades of baby hair. Um, EW. And the only reason I have these envelopes is because the hair people MAKE me. Don't even think you're trying to walk out of a barber shop/salon without them. Look. I love my babies. I love every single hair on their little heads. But I don't feel it necessary to hang on to those dead, wispy strands. In fact, it makes me slightly gaggy. But I'll keep them, because that's JUST WHAT YOU DO apparently.
Up next, I'll show you how to incorporate your baby's dried umbilical cord stump in a lovely scrap booking layout.