organized chaos

All my gremlins were born with full heads of hair. It’s the hispanic gene, I assure you. They don’t get it from me. My hair’s so thin, you can see part of my scalp when my head’s tilted at just the right angle. But lucky for you, I’m 6 ft tall, and you’ll never catch me taking a picture of that!

And when I say they were born with a full head of hair, don’t be fooled into thinking I could braid it or anything. Which reminds me of a nice lady I work with who swore to me one night that one of her sons was born with so much hair that the nurse put a little ponytail in it and they all had a good laugh.

Me and My Man had a good laugh at that too.

So, despite everyone’s claims that my gremlins would lose their nice hair as most babies do, two of them kept their locks. But then poor Jackelope lost all of his in a horrifying patchy pattern that scared the beetles out of everyone at church causing mayhem and end-of-the-world-riots throughout the city.

Joking. Only joking. And it grew back in within the month. Now The Cuteness has lost most of his birth hair and beyond all weirdness it might be growing in blond. I’ve never had a gremlin with blond hair. That would be strange indeed.

But for some sick reason, his scalp is holding on to a few sections for dear life. Making me obsess more than what is healthy over my 6 month old’s appearance. And while we were at the park the other day, some other well meaning mother said,

“Oh look at the cute baby! He has a comb over!”

This is what I envisioned at her words:

And that first one? I tried to get it larger, cause it’s scary. So maybe it’s better small.

So I knew I had me some style practice to work on. This was new territory for me.

But first, I gazed at this picture of a mere couple months ago and wept at what the passing of time can do.

Goodbye nice chestnut hair. You made my Cuteness look like such a little man.

Hello Comb Over Hair. I’m about to whip you into shape.

This is what I have to work with. As you can see, like most men, he is clueless about the state of his hair.

First, I tried to comb it to the right. My right.

Then I tried combing it to the right. His right.

Apparently he found that shocking.

Then I got a little funky with my bad self.

It’s a madness, you cannot stop it.

Then he got some kind of clue and lifted up on his arms very high as if to say:

Hey! You want a piece of this drool?

Then he gave up

Cause really, he’s a lover, not a fighter. And that fuzzy dinosaur needed SOME LOVIN’.

In the end, after looking at all these pictures, I realized that nothing will diminish the charming wiles of The Cuteness.