all boy

from the licorice brown dark fuzz that sprouted as an infant to the brilliant sun soaked auburn that emerged with the toddler--for 2 years and 17 days owen's hair grew. and of course, it's growing still. and yes, probably right now while he naps it's sprouting away. but it grew in his eyes, down the back of his neck and cradled his ears.

so it certainly wasn't because i wanted it and it thankfully wasn't because michael demanded it but it was because owen himself asked for it. simply: "owen need a haircut." and it was a refrain--since he had seen nana cut daddy's hair at nanapapa's house and watched while nana gave mommy bangs in mommy's kitchen he would randomly say: "owen get haircut?" and mommy of course would nervously laugh and say, "no--owen doesn't need a haircut." but lately the inquiry has become a statement of need--echoed each and everytime we walked by "pikassos" where mommy bought hair gel and where the cute norwegian girls (always decked out with silky scarves and glittery eyes--i'm sure this is what sealed the deal) say "hihi" and giggle when owen says tusen takk. gagggagoo (his perfect norwegian "thank you" and exaggerated vær så god for "you're welcome").

anyhow, it was getting quite long. and my brief attempt with styling products was less successful. and it did seem to get in the way of playing with greenpeople in the bluetruck on the ferryboat. and michael assures me that by the time we go back home he'll already need another haircut. and my worst fears that once cut all of the golden shimmer would fall off too does seem to be unfounded.

so, here is owen on the motorcylce (watching tom & jerry which is for some strange reason ubiquitous in norwegian public children's corners) while sonja starts in on the "soccer mullet" (auntie jenni came up with this one, btw):

now he's eating crazy car gummies and rather unfazed by the entire experience:



here is the motorcycle seat holding owen's hair:


and i have to say that he seemed quite liberated by it all. the only one that cried, of course, was mommy, and really this is only because he sat down like such a little man with all the other old men waiting their turn and ate raisins and said smart things and was so such a big big boy. anywhow, afterwards, he hopped off the little motorcycle and walked right out of the herrefrisør into the kremmergarden mall and found a car to drive:


so instead of being this amazing little person with the prettiest hair, he's this funny, independent catch-you-off-guard boy with the most beautiful eyes. just like his daddy.