Our baby was born with lots of hair, and after nine months on the outside, he has even more. His hair is dark and curly. When allowed to do what it pleases, it stands up tall on the top of his head.
For a long time, the hair on the back of his head was very short, highlighting the coiffure plume reaching skyward from the top. Lately, the hair on the back of his head has filled in nicely, but it still is mere undergrowth compared to the jungle of vines on top.
Big Brother refers to this hairstyle as the baby’s Big Wig. Having been a Seinfeld fan in the ‘90s, I sometimes wonder if this child weren’t meant to be named Cosmo or Kramer. Because of his Big Wig, people have often mistaken him for a girl. So far he is not the least bit embarrassed by their misconceptions. He is very comfortable beneath his own skin, and under the impenetrable canopy of his own hair.
We have an unwritten rule that we don’t cut our kids’ hair in the first year. I don’t know where we came up with this, but it is as solid as if it were issued by the Lawgiver himself. Besides, we all really get a kick out of the Big Wig. It’s almost become as much a part of the baby to us as his button nose. When that first birthday rolls around, it’s going to present a difficult decision.
The latest member of the family to begin to enjoy the Big Wig is the baby himself. He sometimes grabs a sample of his own hair and pulls it down in front of his face to get a good look at it. I’m not sure if he likes the way it looks, but if nothing else, it has become a fun and handy toy.
The baby plays with his hair more and more. Occasionally, he even gets some fingers caught in it. It’s dangerous hair; I know; I’ve attempted to comb it. My wife is the only one who is qualified to make attempts at taming that hair. A brief comparison of our heads will inform any viewer that she is on much better terms with hair than I am.
We understand that, at some point, we will have to trim back the Big Wig. We wouldn’t want the child to lose his hands in that morass. Still, it will not be an event free of regret. Never has an unmanageable patch of hair endeared us so uniformly to it.
The Big Wig will eventually have to go so that the baby can grow into a respectable toddler. When he’s old enough, he can decide for himself whether he wants to grow it back. That is, unless he has inherited the same gene that caused the diaspora of my hair from its native scalp. Let’s hope Mommy’s DNA is filling in that slot in the gene pool.