I'm totally that sappy, sobbing mom who grieves each milestone that he reaches because it's one more step away from baby and closer to big boy. Iggy was born with tons of hair, lost most of it around four months and then it grew back in full force.
I've been putting off his first haircut for too long. We were planning on having it done in California, but due to some special circumstances it was delayed. So I waited and two weeks ago finally called a fancy place on Grand Avenue to see if they were willing to cut a 22 month olds hair for the first time. They were so hesitant that I decide to scratch that idea and let his hair grow another foot and just accept that people would forever ask me "how old is she?"
Ian was headed to his barber and I asked if he could check and see if they would be willing to do it and they were. So last Saturday morning I washed Iggy's hair, snipped a couple of curls, and we loaded up into the car and went to the barber shop. I have my sister-in-law to thank for these pictures.
I can't believe how long his hair was. He was given a cape to wear as well but promptly rid himself of it.
His barber was fantastic and sweet and super patient.
Not only was I surprised by how long his hair was, but I was kind of shocked by the quantity. Though, in reality, I shouldn't have been. If you've ever met my father or any one of his blood relatives you would have expected the massive amount of hair on this child's head.
Iggy was a champ through the whole thing. He just didn't like when the barber touched his ears.
It was nothing a lollipop couldn't fix.
And here he is, folks. My very own grown up boy.
I didn't cry. I promise.