I saw this day coming twelve years ago

The moment you first become a parent isn't generally one of the most rational moments in your life. When the nurses brought a five-day-old Tanner to us in the hospital and we saw him for the first time, my first thought when I looked at him was, "That cowlick is cute as the dickens right now, but man, he's going to hate that thing when he's a teenager." (Side note: I had a similar moment of intellectual silliness when he broke his arm at age three. His arm was bent like a bow. Not pretty. For an irrational moment, I looked at it and thought, "Maybe it's not really broken." Nice try, Dad.)

Those of you who know Tanner know that one of the things that makes him Tanner is that swirly cowlick that's just to the right of center in his forehead. When he was little and he drew pictures of himself, he'd draw a little swirl in the center of his forehead to represent the cowlick. That's how much that cowlick is a part of him. We don't want him any other way.

But the long-anticipated moment has arrived. The poor boy has needed a haircut for weeks. I haven't had time to take him. Of course, that's one of those problems in life that doesn't go away on its own; hair doesn't stop growing if you just ignore it. Anyway, the bottom line is that the kid's hair looks just awful right now. (If he ever reads this posting, I think he'll agree with me.) I mentioned to him that we really need to take him to get a haircut. That's when he told me that he doesn't want a haircut because when his hair is long in the front, it hides his cowlick. That's the first time he's ever expressed any sensitivity about his cowlick.

And thus begins adolescence . . . .