It ain't exactly an extreme makeover...

Eliot's first haircut was...eh...a haircut. It wasn't as momentous as I had expected. I thought I would be upset at the loss of his long wispy locks, but I'm really okay with it. It's a little straighter across the front than I'd like, but oh well.


He sat through the process pretty patiently, considering that he doesn't generally like having his hair messed with. (Unlike Libby, whose familiar plea when tired was "muss my hair." I'd stroke her curls back from her forehead and she'd be asleep in no time.) Eliot doesn't really want his hair brushed, let alone "mussed." He'll pull on it when he's tired, but other than his own chubby little fingers, he doesn't want anything touching his hair--including hats, most of the time.


So I was a little apprehensive about how well he would cooperate.





















At first it was a game, because Daddy had the camera out, and it's always great fun to get one's picture taken. But after Sandy started snipping away, it wasn't long before he was like, "Okay, guys. Whatever you're doing to me, you can stop right now. Um...guys. Now. I said Now." He slowly got more insistent and starting squirming around.


But when the clipping and snipping was over, our little boy was looking less little, and the wispy strands were out of his eyes at last.


So I guess the whole shebang qualifies as a success after all.