This is a First World Problem; I know that. I will not pretend otherwise. But, it is my First World Problem.
I was so excited that my rising (*gasping*, because, really, how did this happen so soon?) kindergartener was accepted into an amazing charter school, not only the school system I wanted, but the location less than two miles from our home. The school has a fabulous curriculum and my son will be ready to be either a world class innovator and leader or a cunning super spy by the time he has spent thirteen years there. The classes make me jealous, and their founding principles are truth and beauty (and, really, who doesn’t love those?). I love it so much I wish I could go there. I seriously, truly would love to go there, even as an adult…right now, sign me up, because I want to learn all the fascinating things they are teaching.
I like the campus, it is new and beautiful and the doors are thankfully locked (in the sad state of today’s world). The playground has slides and things to climb on and shade.
fought, yelled, screamed, pulled my hair out–worked early on with my son to get him to their starting level of knowledge. I stood firm when he challenged my knowledge of which letter was S.
And, I really loved the idea of the uniforms. Everyone fairly equal, and when my daughter goes there, there will be no battles about what she wears (to school, anyway). And, if uniforms can still bring battles, please leave me in my deluded state; it’s nice here.
I just read the full text of the uniform requirements and gasped aloud in horror–boys must have very short hair! I am no hippy (although I would have made a great one!). My son, who was blessed with a head full of beautiful, super thick, naturally wavy dark blonde hair has been sporting Mama’s choice; a slightly long, shaggy do. It is adorable and shows off his locks to the nth degree.
And, I will have to have it cut! In kindness, I will not cut it myself (as my many attempts at bang trims have led to about the same number of disasters), but I will have to trust my hair care professional to help me through this difficult time.
I have enjoyed these years of living vicariously through his beautiful thick curly hair. His hair genes didn’t come from me and sadly my daughter didn’t inherit them. So, he has been the sole family member with good hair. I knew it would come to an end someday, but I really thought I had more time.
It’s rather late to find an identical school which differs only in hair requirements. (Did I hear someone say, “Chasing unicorns?)
Short hair. Too soon. *sigh* I will get through this somehow.