So in less than three weeks, Mr. Baby Boy will turn a whole two years old. (What will I call him then, I wonder?) It has been apparent to me for some time that I must must must take the boy to get his first haircut. For months now Zan and Neighbor Man have been threatening to cut it off one curl at a time so I don’t notice right away. Despite his jeans, blue coat, and Converse sneakers, he’s been called a “she” more times than I can count in the last three months, and that alone is reason enough for Zan. Big Girl braids it and says, “Mom…look. He NEEDS a haircut!!!!” When she began calling him Mullet Man, I was shamed into thinking they might all be right. So, on Friday, my sweet baby boy will lose his sweet baby curls and will look like the little boy he’s grown to be. Of course, I had to get a photo of that frizz ball of a mullet that has grown on the back of his head before it’s gone. I took this photo an hour ago while he was mesmerized by his favorite movie.