Bling bling and a Mohawk, what happened to my baby?

So last week I let my youngest son get a Mohawk.

Yes, you read that correctly.

I let him get his hair cut so that it sticks up on purpose down the centre of his head. I’d actually call it more of a faux-hawk since the sides and back of his hair is cut really short as opposed to being shaved off.

He loves it.

My husband thinks I’m crazy.

My oldest son is claiming discrimination since I let Justin get a Mohawk but I won’t let him have one. This, coming from the same kid who eyes used to swell up with tears if I merely mentioned the word “haircut.”

“You guys have different hair,” I keep telling him. “It won’t work on you.”

Plus, after years of fighting a losing battle with his ‘hockey hair’ – including the unfortunate orange-instead-of-blond-streaks incident – I’m liking his hair these days.

Besides, I don’t know if I can live through two life-altering hair experiences. That’s how things are feeling around home now that Justin has a Mohawk. I suppose it goes with the bling bling fad he’s been going through. The one where he walks around the house wearing gold (plastic) chains with big dollar signs on them, his hat on sideways and his shirt unbuttoned exposing his bare chest.

Did I mention he just turned six?

Now it’s all about the hair. The Mohawk sticks up about four centimetres. We used a picture of soccer player David Beckham as a guide. As our hairdresser Nicole starting cutting the sides of his hair, this kid could barely contain his grin. “I’m so handsome,” he said.

I didn’t know if on the way home I should make a side trip to buy more mirrors for our house since he can’t stop looking at himself. And you’d think his arms would get tired from being clasped on top of his head, pushing the Mohawk into shape every three minutes.

The morning after the Mohawk he woke up all in a panic because it was “destroyed.”

“No, you have bed head, it’s just now it’s more noticeable.”

He’s decided he may have to start sleeping sitting up. And he says he’s giving up swimming.

“I’ll pack some gel and styling putty,” I told him.

Did I mention he just turned six?

The good thing is he didn’t seem to care that on the morning after his haircut, his Mohawk was about 24 degrees off centre on the top of his head. And he barely noticed that somehow I had managed to give him bangs.

At least we have three months to go before the next round of school pictures.

Hopefully by then he’ll miss his old hair. Or I’ll be used to his new hair.