Here's the thing: I like long hair. I have no problem with boys with long hair. I am also all for my kids expressing themselves by doing wacky things with their hair. Why? Because it's not permanent.

"Mom, can I dye my hair blue?" asks my oldest. "Sure," I reply, "but no tattoos. I promise if you get one of those, you'll regret it. Do you want to hear the story again about the once flower child now fat and frumpy housewife with the once cute flower tattoo on her ankle? Let's talk about how that looks now, shall we?"

"Mom, can I have a mo hawk?"
"Absolutely," I say, "but no piercings. Be happy with the holes that God designed. Do you want to see how the Native Americans used to pierce ears. Let's go whittle a piece of bone to the right size and find a piece of sinew, shall we?"


(You should hear the sex talk I have for them. It involves the mating habits of praying mantises, and how the females rip off the head of the male when done. It won't work forever, I realize, but surely it's good for an extra year or two of no girls.)

Back to the hair, though. Guess why they decided to grow their hair out! To donate it, like Mommy does. Seriously. How adorable is that?! The fact that it also drives all the grandparents completely nuts is a fringe benefit that I am happy to live with.