At first, he enjoyed watching it get longer.
Then it started falling into his eyes.
A few weeks later, it reached the awkward stage where it wasn’t quite long enough to tie back but was much too long to ignore.
Every morning became a struggle.
He would stand in front of the bathroom mirror, complaining that his hair was impossible to manage.
“Mom, how do people live like this?”
I laughed.
“Millions of people manage perfectly well.”
“Millions of people must have incredible patience.”
Eventually, he started wearing his hair in a ponytail.
That brought another problem.
Some boys at school began teasing him.
One called him “Princess Noah.”
Another pulled at his ponytail during gym class.
Occasionally, Noah came home angry.
“They think they’re hilarious,” he muttered one afternoon.
“Did you tell your teacher?”
“Yeah. She handled it.”
I watched him remove the hair tie and shake his head.
