5 o'clock shadow...on your head

On Tuesday night Andrew whimpered and whined about his long hair until I gave in and agreed to cut it. We got out the clippers and I set to work. Everything was fine until I decided to make the sides a bit shorter than the top. Then...

"Ooops...okay, ummm...that's, like, really short."

Andrew felt his head with his hands.

"Just make it all that length," he suggested.

"Are you sure? It's like really, really short."

"What other options do we have?"

"Good point."


I was laughing before I even finished shaving his head. He is so bald. We went downstairs to show his mom and I couldn't even say anything.

I was laughing too hard.

Being bald is one of Andrew's many aspirations. He hates hair—mostly combing it, I think, but he doesn't do that even when he has hair. One of his teachers is "bald" and when Andrew showed up to class yesterday his teacher asked him if he was trying to mimic his style. Apparently he isn't a "natural" bald, either.

The really funny part is that Andrew is leaving on Sunday to go on a Career Trip to Washington D.C. where he'll be meeting with contacts from the Congressional Research Service, Ashoka, Amnesty International, the Department of Labor, the Department of Defense, World Bank, the American Red Cross, Millennium Challenge Corporation, Targeted Victory, the Department of State, the Government Accountability Office, the Department of Education, the Partnership for Public Service, USAID, and the FBI.

Good thing he looks professional instead of like he's fifteen...oh, wait...he basically looks like he's fifteen. As his dad pointed out, though, no one he will meet there will compare the Andrew-with-hair to Bald Andrew. I'm not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better or not.

Andrew hasn't been this bald since he was four and his mom turned him into Chemo-boy, although I just looked up the post about the time I butchered his hair in Egypt and it's just about as short, I think...