Once or twice he's toyed with the idea of getting a Justin "Beaver" haircut. I'll admit, those were the only times I attempted to sway his decision. I mean, its just hair. And its not my hair. If he wants to get a ridiculous haircut, that's his right. Except. Justin Beaver's hair is just so so very terribly awful. That weird forehead comb-over? What is that? And then I thought about how his last hair style choices were based on his love of a legendary, zeitgeist-esque, cultural icon. What if switching his hair to Beiber's style led to an equally long love affair with The Beib? Gross. A couple years ago he was kind of adorable and sweet, but he's getting skeevier with every passing day. I didn't tell him he couldn't get the full-on Beiber 'do, but I did do some google searches to find other, Disney-er boy stars with current hair styles and was able to cash in on his love of Austin & Ally to convince him to get the far less comb-over-y, less structured "Austin." So that was a relief.
Last week I watched him come up from the deep end of the pool, looking like a kelp-covered sea creature. His water-logged hair fell down over his face to such an extent that at first I thought I was looking at the back of his head. Every time he came up, he had to stop swimming to push the curtain of his hair back from his eyes so he could see where he was. It didn't seem like much fun at all for him. So on the way home, I said, "Hey buddy, I think it might be time for a haircut," casually glancing at him in the rearview mirror, his towel-dried hair a mass of rat's nest framing his face. I saw an hour of my life, breathing in fumes from the hair-detangler and trying to tease the snarls from his hair.
"Yeah, I think I want it to be short for the summer. Then I'll let it grow out in the fall again." He said matter-of-factly. "Can you make an appointment?"
So I made an appointment. And I reassured myself that at the last minute, he'd decide he just wanted a trim, to hike the same style up a few inches to make the summer a little less sweaty for himself, and swimming a little less top heavy. But I figured he'd pretty much forgotten about actual "short" hair.
Here he is on our drive to the salon.
And sitting in the chair--far less stylish wrap this time. Piggy banks, ponies, cowboys and aliens? C'mon, pick a theme. Oh, the hair. So shiny and soft. Sigh.
She started out by giving him a mullet. It was a truly terrifying moment.
Not for Ethan, though, because thankfully he's been shielded from the concept of the mullet. He thinks its hilarious.
Out of order, here's a picture of his bangs. Don't you hate that awkward "growing out" stage?
He's oblivious to the bowl cut portion of the mullet.
What? Who? How?
And yes, the stylist gave him a lollipop, and then I took him out for Pinkberry. Upon further reflection, perhaps that's why he was bouncing off the walls last night. That, and he kind of fell in love with himself and his cool new short 'do. He spent a good portion of the evening making faces at himself in the mirror. And at me. And the cats. And Husband.
Every time he walked into the room last night, I jumped a little bit, not recognizing him, and thinking some little intruder had snuck into the house. He looks like a totally different person.
He did lament momentarily that when he's "rocking out" he won't be able to swing his hair around. I reminded him how much easier swimming will be, to which he added, "also Jedi training will be easier because my hair won't get in my eyes while I'm battling Darth Maul." Oh yes, that, too.
Sigh. I'm hoping he keeps his promise to grow it back in the fall, mostly because I don't deal well with change, even if its just some locks of hair. But he is seriously so adorable and seems so happy with his newly found lighter head, I think the days of the long haired hippie Ethan might be behind us. Hold me.