For the first 19 months of his life, Sugar Biscuit’s birth mom dictated a lot about his existence, one aspect being how his hair looked. A blog post for another day is how ludicrous it is that foster parents can make major medical decisions for their foster kids, but can’t decide on haircuts. While I understand the reasons behind this, and their cultural roots, it still makes me roll my eyes at times. But, I digress…

After the adoption, tired of being told how often to cut his hair, we just let it grow. And grow it has. It’s long, and beautiful and a big part of who he is. It just fit his personality.

Lately, SB has been asking for his hair to be shorter. It tangles, he hates having it brushed, and he’s starting to pick up that he often gets mistaken for a girl. This doesn’t bother any of us, but he doesn’t like it. 

So today, we took a trip to the hair salon, and my baby boy chose how he wants his hair to look, and his appearance will be forever changed. His long hair, as silly as it sounds, symbolized the first of many choices I am able to make now that he is legally ours. The several inches of golden locks that flow over his shoulders are synonymous with our growth as family over the last 14 months since the adoption. Cutting his hair is a step out of toddlerhood, and his first assertion of who he wants the world to see when it looks at him.

So, while it’s only hair, it isn’t. To our family, touched by foster care and adoption, it’s so much more. 

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