This is Charlie.

He has a beautiful head of curly hair.

I will not take him to Fantastic Sam’s for a haircut.

I repeat:

I will not take him anywhere for a haircut.

Ever.

Once upon a time, this Nonnie took it upon herself to take Charlie’s big brother to get a big boy haircut.

Alas, the baby curls were gone, never to return.

Not doing that again.  No siree.

So we are reveling in Charlie’s curls.

There are curls on this side:

And this side:

And all over the back side:

I heard that Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s mother dressed him in dresses and didn’t cut his long curly hair until he was six years old.  I might cave in if Charlie has long curly hair when he’s six.  (That’s a warning five years in advance, parents.)

Right now, I wouldn’t change a thing.