Haircut

The other night I met the family at our local Mexican restaurant. I did that thing where I stared creepily through the window until I catch one of the boys’ eyes and they ruin everyone’s dinner by screaming.

I ran into the restaurant and got a great hug from Elijah. I noticed he had a shiny new haircut. Which was basically his usual surfer ‘do, but combed for the only time in the haircut’s existence.

Luca came running up and, whoa. I would not call what he had a haircut so much as a Medieval style punishment. I tried to hide my horror at what happened to him. Was his barber blind? Did he only have access to a Scythe? Was he in a Cubism phase of artistic development?

I locked eyes with Diana and whispered, “What did you do to him?”

Apparently Diana’s instructions to the barber got lost in translation. She asked for a nice, high and tight with a little longer on the top and he heard her say, "Make him look exactly like Lloyd from “Dumb and Dumber.”

But before Diana could tell him to shave Luca’s head as a do over, the barber spun Luca around to face the mirror. Luca’s face lit up and he said, “I LOVE it.”

Three quarters of looking good is owning your appearance. And Luca owns his bowl cut. He preens and checks himself out in the mirror and struts a sexy strut.  Well, maybe not sexy. But something.

Diana says all the kids in Luca’s class have been complementing him on his haircut and remarking how good he looks.

On Friday, Luca brought home a little stapled book where each member of his class drew a picture of him. So I now have 20 or so interpretations of Luca’s new haircut. But most look like “The Incredible Hulk” if you drew it with your foot. Luca was wearing green that day.

This morning as I left for work, Luca snuck up and gave me a hug, sleepy headed and flushed. I told him he was beautiful.

He said, “You too.”