Where o where has my cuddly teddy bear gone?

Before I had kids, I never realized a little haircut could shift my world.  I look at this kid and see cuddly teddy bear.

My husband looks at that kid and sees shaggy mop.  And then he gets out a razor and goes full barbershop in our bathroom.

Why put a towel around your kid's shoulders to catch the hairs when you can get full ghetto and vacuum your kid's head?

And if you're going to vacuum your kid's head, you're definitely going to vacuum his belly, too.  Because that's good, cheap fun and that's all there is to it.

And then my baby emerges looking like a jar head.  

I seem to recall telling the barber not to buzz my cuddly teddy bear.  So I felt adrift staring at this young man.  Then my husband shoved his melon next to the buzzed head and it became apparent that he was not even remotely adrift.  

   

Somebody was feeling warm and fuzzy.   A lesser woman might see this pile of mush smiling into the camera and go soft.  Luckily, I was able to push through that and hold firm wondering what the hell he did to my cuddly teddy bear. 

Why does he have to get bigger.  Why can't he stay little and mine forever.   Sigh.

And, perhaps most importantly, why is his father wearing a Cookie Monster t-shirt?