A rant about raising hippies in the 21st century

It was cool to be a hippie in the sixties, and even cooler to raise your kids like little hippies. I understand the appeal, truly I do. But this is 2006, and at some point don’t you start to wonder if you’re living in the past with your tie-dye short set and your son with the gorgeous hair down to his waist? And truly it IS gorgeous and I’m envious, but I can’t help but wonder if the child begs for a haircut every single day so he won’t be a freak among his peers. If he doesn’t do so yet (he is, after all, only eight years old and no doubt home-schooled), what about later? Will his tie-dyed parents respect his freedom and individuality enough to let him cut his lovely locks?

And just so you don’t think I’m being mean…I confess to showing up late to the hippie party and staying a decade or two after everybody else had moved on, and I confess to keeping Jamie’s hair longer than that of all his friends, and to not letting him cut it as frequently (and certainly nowhere near as short) as he would have liked. And I even admit that he was occasionally mistaken for a girl, which distressed him, especially considering he attended Connaught School at the time. You know what happened? As soon as his hair was under HIS control, he immediately cut it way too short and every time it started to look halfway decent, he cut it again. He bought one of those shaver things, and gave himself a # 2 buzz regularly. (And then he lost the #2 blade thingy, and switched to the even shorter #1.)

Here’s a picture of Jamie on Monday – living proof that little boys with long tresses don’t grow up to be hippies, they grow up to look like they’re on military leave:

But he’s still a hippie at heart.