My 14 year old nephew Richard has had long hair now for a year or so. He reminds me of all the boys I went to junior high school with. I wish he'd cut it. He's got the most beautiful face and it's obscured by the stringy strands. And just saying those words makes me feel like a grandma. And it makes me understand why my grandmother was always putting barrettes in my hair, which I hated. Anyhow, I don't say anything to him about cutting his hair. Some day, when he decides to cut it, he will. In the grand scheme of things(**), what does it matter if he has icky long hair? I'm just glad he's the awesome kid he is.
In the meantime my four year old nephew Mitchell has apparently decided to grow his hair out, too.
"So you can be like Richard?" my sister Diane asked him just a few days ago?
"Nope. So I can be like Avalon".
He apparently still wants to grow up to be a girl.
**I watched Hotel Rwanda last night. I have been putting together a post on that, and genocide, and mass murder in the 20th/21st centuries. I stopped. It is hard to find the words that adequately convey my disgust and my frustration. So I decided to do a quick post on a subject that brings me joy instead. But "Hotel Rwanda" is coming.