Everywhere he'd go, people would tell him what a pretty little girl he'd make. It didn't help that his mother would routinely pull his hair into pony tails to keep the hair out of his eyes.
Just call me Mowgli.
While his long hair covered the scars on his head and added volume to his unusually small sized cranium, the boy grew to loathe his hair. Perhaps it was because he hated having to sit still to get his hair brushed, (he was a free spirit after all), or perhaps it was because small animals routinely called his head their home.
I'm fairly sure there is some critters in there somewhere.
The birds kept circling his head, wondering if it would make a suitable nest for their offspring.
It became a tiresome game of picking twigs and grass out of the mat of hair the boy sported so in a fit of annoyance the boy's mother declared it was time for a hair cut.
The boy wasn't sure he liked what his mother was proposing because he wasn't sure he entirely trusted her with scissors. After all, he'd seen what she'd done to her own hair last month when she decided to trim her own bangs.
The boy loved his momma, but love only stretches so far.
I'm not so sure of this idea, Mom.
The boy's mother was not to be deterred. There was only so much stick pulling from her son's hair that she could take, so she sat down to convince her son why a haircut was indeed, a good idea.
Mostly she just blew raspberry kisses on his belly and tickled his feet until he saw the light she was shining on his head.
I'm trusting you woman. Heck, you can't do worse than the mullet Dad gave me.
Before the boy could change his mind and his mother could chicken out, he found himself freshly bathed and sitting at his aunt's house waiting for the axe to fall.
I really am a rock star.
At first the boy wasn't too sure about what was going on with all the activity buzzing around his ears, but suddenly, the weight of the world seemed to be lifted off his shoulders.
Dude! It's like a free head massage!
Suddenly this haircut was the greatest idea ever!
The boy laughed and bounced and giggled as his poor aunt tried to hold him still to cut his hair. The boy's momma watched it all and wished for a stiff drink.
When it was over, there was hair (and drool) everywhere. But the boy couldn't get over how much cooler his head felt and wondered why they hadn't done it sooner.
The boy's mother sat silent, knowing she had done the right thing, but still missed his long beautiful locks.
I'm the best looking one in this family. Just don't tell my siblings I said that.
The boy couldn't stop rubbing his head against everything, so enthralled was he with his new follicle freedom.
The boy's mother couldn't stop wishing she had hair like her son's.
The birds stopped circling the boy's head and moved on to look for a new nesting ground.
His father sighed with relief, knowing he'd never again have to tell people his child was not a girl.
His mom can't wait to grow it all back again.
What can she say? She misses the rat nest she called her son's head.
Get over it Mom, and stop living vicariously through my hair.