
I don't know what I was thinking.
I took a clipper to his beautiful, soft baby hair, and chopped it off.
My brother thinks I was posessed by a insatiable desire to fill the page for "first haircut" in Ezra's baby book--all of a sudden looking up from my work in shock, with scisors in one hand and a lock of hair in the other. WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!
I'm inconsolably miserable, and I'm never cutting his hair again. For at least the next month. (Cuz I guess a little-man business cut is cute too.)





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