Today Robert cut my heart out with a razor. Believe me, we all knew that something had to happen. I mean...look at this kid. He was in desperate need of a trim. The only way to even comb this bush was to soak it down completely. But...I was hesitant. Robert promised it would just be cut back a little. Nothing drastic. Just a clean up. The curls would definitely stay. I took a deep breath and let them at it.
About 5 minutes later I got a desperate call from the bathroom. Robert's expensive razor, apparently, was a pile of trash. IT (not Rob, of course) was butchering our boy's hair. IT was just moving hair around and randomly chopping chunks short while leaving others intact. The only way to fix it was to cut it all off...all the way.

I sat there and watched, mortified. There was no way of stopping the razor. Off went my baby boy's beautiful curls. And now look what I have...A grown up looking toddler. Handsome? Yes. But where is my sweet baby?

It wasn't even possible to tease out a quarter of a curl...and that was with product. So sad!

"Oh Daddy! Say it isn't so!"