This morning produced a conversation which went like this:
Fred: Daddy, my lego man is stuck in my hair,
Daddy: Ok, I'll get it out. It's because your hair is too long Freddie,
Fred: I want a haircut,
Daddy: (To Mummy) Did you hear that darling?
Mummy: Freddie, do you love your floffy hair, or do you want it cut?
Fred: I want it cut
A lot of things happened quite quickly after that, and before I could think of a way out, or leave it a reasonably length of time so that he forgot all about it, we wound up in Auntie Ann's salon.
I know everyone else thinks I should have cut it ages ago, and I never intended to grow it long, but I just couldn't bear to cut off his beautiful curls.
No one else could really understand that as no one else had ever spent hours twirling his ringlets around their fingers as he breastfed.
But it was his hair, and so in the end it was his choice. To say I have shed a tear would be a lie, in truth I cried a lot, and have been doing so on and off for the last few hours!
So here he is, my big boy, my last baby, my last ringlets.
Doesn't he look so smart!