How silly of me to want to grow out his hair, when his brother CLEARLY had other ideas.
The funny thing is, I don’t know if he’s going to let me fix it without a major fight.
He LOVES it. His brother LOVES it (well, it’s his work, and he’s standing behind it no matter what).
At first I thought he looked like a balding accountant.
He’s still a Los Angeles boy at heart. He told me he looks like a “cool punk dude” and now he’s ready for his first day of school ever. Montessori wants them to express themselves, but I don’t think they had this in mind.
You don’t even want to see the back. Unless you feel like crying.
But yesterday, post-hair disaster, he asked another kid at the park what his name was. For the first time ever. I wanted to hold a party. Autism can suckit.
They’re getting better, friends. The light at the end of the tunnel is so, so bright now.