Cabbage and I have had some heated disagreements about the fate of our baby's mullet. He didn't see it as a mullet at all, even though it was. [this is my blog, so I win] He referred to it as Beep's long, pretty hair. As it grew longer (and the hair on the front half of her head remained short), I felt more and more that my baby was walking a dangerous line into Hair From the Eighties. I didn't like it at all, but I was stuck. I'd told him I would never cut her hair until or unless he agreed. As weeks passed, I was so. tired. of looking at her scraggly ends and I sensed this could go on eternally... so I straight-up browbeat him into accepting a truce of sorts.
I cajoled, pleaded, reasoned, and finally harassed him about it, telling him "You'll have to speak up if you want her to hear you- she can't hear you through the mullet."
He reluctantly agreed to (or at least shrugged and walked away when I AGAIN suggested) a trim of only the longest hair, just to clean up the ends. I was gonna to take the heat outta that mullet.
Here, kitty kitty kitty. Nice little baby mullet.
Snip, snip, snip in a line across the back, a little shaping angling up the sides, and I had just enough trimmed to save in a baggie as her first hair cut.
And my baby had a cute, neat little style. I need to take more pictures- it really is adorable, it looks like a tiny bob.
And with that we bid adieu to the baby mullet.
I suppose I shouldn't hold it against Cabbage that he was so attached to her old style. After all, I have it on good authority he proudly wore one during the eighties. It was long, proud, and P.E.R.M.E.D. Yes, that's right. So he was probably just feeling nostalgic every time he looked at her little hairs cascading softly against her collar... Business in the front, party in the back. Those were the days.