I got the haircut blues

On Sunday, we decided that Landon needed a haircut. This is something we'd been putting off a long time. Despite the fact that locks of his hair invaded his eyes, and tufts stuck out from all sides of his head, giving him an Einstein-esque look, I was adamant - WE WERE NOT CUTTING HIS HAIR! Cutting Landon's hair would mean he was "officially" a toddler and no longer my baby. 

As you may recall, I've already posted other instances of what makes Landon "officially" a toddler. His first birthday. His ever-growing vocabulary. His always-improving mobility skills.

Well, here's another one to that to the "Landon's an official toddler because..." list: his first hair cut. Although I've called him an "official" toddler before, the hair cut marks the stage where official officially becomes official. (Kudos to you if you followed that!)

My stance on the hair cut changed when Brian told me that someone asked him in Landon was his daughter. I couldn't stomach the thought of my rough-and-tumble, handsome, all-boy son being mistaken for a girl. So, I swallowed the lump in my throat, took a deep breath...and agreed to cut the baby's hair. Oops, sorry! I agreed to cut the "official toddler's" hair.

I have to admit, he looks better. I just have to adjust to the fact that his baby face is looking more and more mature everyday.

Before the haircut - he was a little disconcerted.
"Uh, mom? You're not really getting that close to me with those scissors are you?"

All smiles afterward! 

Check me out! I'm one handsome boy!