Devil's Haircut

Sometimes, life is just sad.

And sometimes, that sadness can come in some strange, seemingly innocuous packages.

Like a haircut.

While this is now a clearly defined ritual in the young life of the Doozer, as he's had an ever-growing number of them in the last few years, they can often be mirthless affairs.

And it has nothing at all to do with the locale. On the contrary, we just discovered this place called Snip-its. Which is a great place to take your little one, should they find themselves in need of a haircut. Bright and colorful, with cartoons and prizes, plus interactive decor, it's kind of like the Chuck E. Cheese's of hair salons. Definitely not your grandfather's barbershop, for sure.

Anyway, this most recent haircut was, simply, downright evil. Not in how it looked, mind you. It's not like the stylist fashioned his hair to look like Damien or one of those kids from Children of the Corn. Maybe a little on the short side, but other than that it looked completely fine. Except for the fact that it immediately made him look older.

In an instant, after several snips of hair, the Doozer revealed himself for what he's becoming—rapidly—a grown-up little boy. Less and less our little baby every day. And sure, in some ways, we're excited about this aging process (I imagine the conversations get better and that eventually he'll master the proper usage of a fork). But mostly, it's just sad. Yet again, this is something that no one warns you about: Becoming a parent is to be sad. A lot.

They grow up so fast is such a cliche, but really, it's true. They do. It doesn't stop. It's constant. You find yourself becoming nostalgic for things that happened yesterday, last week, because that's how quickly it all changes.

And so you find yourself feeling sad because of a haircut. A haircut.

What a strange life this is . . .