For some time now, Luke has been rocking what I affectionately call dirty hippie hair. Hair-wise, he was a late bloomer. There was no way we could've taken him for his first haircut at a year because, well, he didn't have a whole lot to cut. Even at a year and a half, but then all of a sudden, he was like a Chia Pet. His hair just grew, grew, grew. It curled over his ears, it curled down his neck, and I liked it. I loved my boy with his tousled long hair, but I hated constantly correcting strangers who called him a girl, and I hated the way it tangled in the back.
So off we went to Locks of Fun, where he got to sit in a super cool fighter jet.
He was a perfect angel during the hair cut, but somehow in the span of thirty minutes he morphed from my little hippie baby to a little boy.
And as you can see, he lost his hair, but he did not lose his inability to stand still.