somethin' shiny!: Hair today, gone tomorrow

When Mark woke up yesterday, he was just your average 9-year-old sorely in need of a haircut. By day's end, he'd received both the haircut and the hero status that went with it.

Mark's school held a St. Baldrick's head shaving event yesterday, and I'm proud to say my son was a participant. He shaved off his hair to help fight childhood cancer, and he did it in honor of a friend currently battling cancer. Yep, you can safely say that I was the proudest mom around yesterday.

He was very nervous about the whole thing, because that kid really loves his hair. But when he promised to shave it back in January, I promised he wouldn't have to cut it until the shaving. The promise of no haircuts between then and now was powerful incentive.

My cousin Kathleen had a great idea for easing him into the haircut -- she suggested we each cut off a lock of his hair beforehand. But Mark didn't like that idea, and hid behind the patio furniture to elude her. She trapped him, and cut off a small bit, while I videotaped it and tried really hard not to laugh.

Mark then ran out the front door, and when I followed him, he ran around the corner wielding a Super Soaker squirt gun.

"Never!" he shouted, shooting water at me. "You won't get any more of my hair!"

So I was a little nervous he was going to back out at the last minute. But my fears were completely unfounded. When they called kids onstage, Mark bounded up there like a little trooper.

There were about 50 kids from his school participating, but Mark was the only kid from his class. His teacher, Mr. Robinson, was there and jumped onstage to do the first shave. He took the clippers and shaved off a huge swath of hair, leaving a shiny white path across the middle of Mark's head. Mark didn't complain a bit.

Mr. Robinson passed the clippers back to the hair stylist, who spent the next four minutes shaving off the rest of Mark's hair. When Mark finished and stood up, the crowd cheered. His hand instinctively reached for his head, rubbing where only moments before, hair had been.

"It feels weird," he said. "But at least I still have whiskers."

"You mean stubble?" I asked, rubbing the minute hairs left on his head.

"Yeah, stubble." He sighed. "I should've asked for a 1," he said, referring to the clipper level which would've left him with a tiny layer of hair.

Did I mention how proud I was of him??? I couldn't stop rubbing his bald head, and telling him that.

"I know," he said when I told him again how proud I was. "You said that a million, jillion times already!"

It was a fun event to watch. One by one, the participants took the stage, most with longish hair. Once shaved, they left the stage, rubbing their heads, and were met by friends or family members offstage who did the same thing. It was funny to see all the shiny white heads, and the hairlines of where hair used to be.

Mark got a t-shirt and button to commemorate the event, and I took about a hundred pictures of him newly-shorn. His teacher congratulated him, then delivered the best news ever.

"You can wear a baseball hat to school tomorrow," he told Mark, so Mark wouldn't get sunburned. Mark was thrilled at that, although a little less thrilled when he got home and discovered that his favorite hat was too big now, sans hair.

Mark was also thrilled to get an ice cream cone out of the deal. (Hey, he earned it!)

After the shaving, we went to Scott and Mary's house for dinner. His cousins were all there, and excited to see Mark's head. Except for 2-year-old Johnny, that is. Johnny was excited to see me, because that meant Mark was somewhere close by, but he didn't recognize him.

"Look Johnny, it's Mark," I said, pointing at Mark. But Johnny's eyebrows shot straight up. He didn't recognize Mark at all, and wasn't sure of that bald kid in front of him. He looked from me to Mark, then back again, and finally ran away.

Scott and Smed also congratulated Mark, saying he resembled a Buddhist monk.

"Where's your hair?" Scott asked, to which Mark answered, "Hey, at least I've still got my appendix!" (Which was only funny because Scott lived after his appendix burst.)

It was hilarious to watch Mark run through the house. It definitely took some getting used to seeing that bald head.

When we got home, Mark readied himself for bed, and rubbed his head once more.

"My head feels funny on the pillow!" he called, making me giggle.

It was weird though, to pass his room, and see that stubbly head on the pillow. And even weirder to see him wake up this morning. I'm still not used to the hairless head yet.

But enough of my impressions, here are some pics so you can see for yourself.

The "before" picture