I have never been sentimental when it comes to cutting my son’s hair. It’s always been a case of buzz cuts all round, please. The shorter the better.

In fact, that inserted link points back to the last time Riley had a haircut. I’ve avoided giving him one this year. At first it was because he simply didn’t need one, but by June Adam started to get on my case about going back to the hairdressers. It’s true, it was getting long. Riley had sideburns and walked around all day with that ‘just rolled out of bed’ look. But I couldn’t do it.

I only relented the week of Keira’s preschool formal. One afternoon when Keira was in class, I spontaneously walked into the salon and got a lucky spot straight away.

“How much do you want off today? Shall I go get the clippers?” she asked.

“Wait. No.”

And so it began, the agonising, possibly pathetic regret of the passing of our children’s youth.

“I only want a little off today,” I said, pincering my fingers almost completely together. “Just a bit. I just….”

I just couldn’t shave it off.

******

The other times Riley’s come out of the salon looking like he’s been to boot camp people have stopped me to say, “Goodness, doesn’t that make him look older.”

Which was true to a degree, but for me there’s always been one thing that’s stopped me from agreeing and that is his cheeks: those matching plump, kissable cheeks he’s had since birth. As he’s grown and stretched, and his muscles have altered accordingly, the cheeks have remained a comforting constant.

But I’ve begun counting my days until they too are absorbed by the process of change; when one night a little boy goes to bed a big one will wake up, probably shouting and yelling ‘fart’ all the time, or wanting to go for a cruise to McDonalds in the car*.

*Wait, he does that last one already.

The other morning I was sitting on his bed, waiting for him to wake up (oh, the joys of daylight savings when they don’t go to bed until late, eh?) and he lay there in abandon, cheeks pink, his chest rising and falling deeply. I had a sudden panic that these days of ours are slipping past fast. After this baby is gone, we will have no other. And while there are times when I’ve longed for the very difficult early years to pass by (and let’s face it parents – those early years are difficult) I’m not sure if I’m ready for the next stage to begin yet.

For as much as I’m willing to tell anybody who asks that there will be no more children there is a part of me that wonders what I might be giving up.

Newborn

May 2007

September 2009

October 2009