I postponed getting a haircut for several months. Among my reasons was not wanting to lose the curls that Annalee had a habit of playing with, especially when tired. I admit, too, that strangers telling us all the time that they could see where Annalee got her curls from was a bond between us, a thing of which I was proud. Eventually, though, I bit the bullet. The long locks had become a bother, and I wanted my old short-haired self to re-emerge, if hopefully wiser.

"Daddy, you got a haircut," she said, when she first saw me. "I like it." So much for her being devastated. The next morning, she saw me again and said, "You still have your haircut, Daddy." A little later she said, "I like your haircut, I didn't like your curls."

She had recently been expressing interest in her own first haircut, and within a few days of Daddy's new look, Annalee was not to be deterred. Mommy brought her to a fancy local hair salon, and she had about an inch taken off her golden-red curls. I dreaded her haircut as much as I dreaded my own, fearing the loss of I don't exactly know what, her innocence, I suppose, and was happy to see I didn't love her less with her stylish new 'do, a little more, if anything.

Posted with permission from Dad Writes

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