As I watched my 14-year-old son get a haircut yesterday, it occurred to me that he didn't have Justin Bieber hair. Not that he wanted Justin Bieber hair. My son's hair didn't move or swing. Mitch always tried to smash down his wiry curls. It ended up looking a bit like a helmet. I never said anything.I wanted to but I didn't. After the stylist cut and thinned his hair, she made a joke about how he had enough hair on his head for at least two people. She rubbed some product in her hands and kind of played with and sculpted his curls. His hair looked great. Mitch looked older, more mature.
As we walked to the car, I tried to look at his hair. I reached up to touch it.
"What are you DOINGGGGGG? Leave me alone!"
We got in the car. And he proceeded to smash his hair back down into a helmet. I didn't say a word.