It’s inevitable. You can hardly see his eyes. The nape of his neck is a tangle of curls. You’ve hissed, “His name is David” one too many times, whenever he’s mistaken for a girl. Saturday morning finds you at the barbershop, the traditional setting (along with beauty salons, kitchens, and backyards) for the ceremonial First Haircut. The star is seated, tiny shoulders draped with a cape or a towel. Magically, a toy is produced; something to hold on to—an anchor of sorts. A few snips of the scissors and bangs appear. A comb parts the hair to one side, the path that starts the passage from boy to man. Someone hovers close and takes snapshots. You stand back and marvel at how time flies. A lock of hair is sealed in a see-through bag. A lollipop is presented, perhaps a certificate. And a new little face appears. The same face, for certain, but more official somehow, more serious. In just a moment, babyhood falls away and your toddler comes into focus.
Child magazine, March 2000