The Mohawk

I’ve been traveling for work lately which means that I haven’t been spending enough time at home. Which means that my son is being a little neglected by me. Not sure if he minds though as he’s very easily distracted. Don’t think he misses me anywhere near how much I have come to miss him. The parental bond is intrinsic in nature. And although I am repeatedly reminded by total strangers that we have an uncanny resemblance and that he looks somewhat like a mini me (reference: Austin Powers), there is no physical chain binding us together. So what could I do that makes him mine? How can I physically tie him to me? Without actually chaining him to me.

I wanted to leave my mark on my son. Generally, I’m apt to throwing money at my problems to make them go away (although after marriage and the birth of my son, I have come to realize that there isn’t enough money in the world). Instead of buying a mundane toy or clothes, I needed to establish a link, something that was mine, something to release the inner personality of my son as I see it but would identify specifically with me.

So, one day, I drew up the courage and whisked him away. A lot tougher than it sounds as his mother wants to know where he is every second of the day. I sneaked him to the baby barber. And got him a serious Mohawk. For those of you that don’t know what a Mohawk is perhaps you can recall Mr. T from the A Team. Bring back memories? That’s a Mohawk. When you have a bald head except for a strip of hair running down the middle of your head all the way from the front to the back. Yes, I realize that some of you are channeling my wife and consider this a selfish act, but, in my defense, I stopped at the hair trim and didn’t get it bleached too. That would have been the ultimate plan. Dye the hair blue. Or red. Or yellow. But I was worried about the verbal abuse awaiting me at home if I returned with a colored Mohawk. Actually, my only concern throughout this process was the reaction from my family. And my nanny.

In hindsight, I have absolutely no idea how the Mohawk connects my son to me or how it identifies specifically with me (considering that my wild side isn’t as wild as I probably imagine it to be – certainly not Mohawk wild). But it was extremely satisfying. Although I did suffer a tinge of fear as the hair trimming machine mowed his hair in straight lines from the front to the back much like when a recruit enlists in the army – but my 16 month old boy was becoming a slightly more mature and cooler 16 month old boy. It may not sound appealing but I thought it definitely suited my son perfectly. I was quite pleased with myself having single handedly taken such a bold step and the outcome being reasonably handsome, yet amusing. However, the real test would be bringing him home to the family.

I got home and my wife wasn’t as horrified as I had expected although she did comment that I left with an innocent young baby boy and returned by Baby Godzilla. I was a bit disappointed as I expected more of a fight. After all this was a sign of rebellion from the men of the house to exhibit that we won’t conform. But she was slightly amused. Damn. (Or Phew, haven’t made up my mind on that one yet). She proceeded to take snaps and upload them onto our family chat and immediately thereafter I began to receive death threats from my son’s grandparents, uncles and aunts. They have all since decided not acknowledge the Mohawk and only comment on his behavior now. Not a word about the haircut or his new cool look. It doesn’t exist.

Even our nanny was initially unimpressed. But it has grown on her since and now she personally styles it into a point before he heads to nursery – presumably to terrorize other kids since he is now the tough, Mohawk punk kid. There will be no keeping him down, no holding him back. He is the main man now. He is the bully. Unfortunately, he is also the youngest in his Sunshine class, and at that age, a few months can mean a lot. Turns out, being the dark, mysterious type in high school is not really applicable to a nursery age child. No one of his peers even find the Mohawk remotely amusing or unusual. For them, it’s just another day, just another haircut, if even that. They are oblivious. The Mohawk is wasted on them. But it’s just kids anyway – what do they know – it’s our responsibility to teach them cool. And this was lesson number one.

All said and done, I love the Mohawk look for my beloved tiny punk and highly recommend it. Or any other interesting hairstyle to make him unique. My advice is not to listen to anyone, especially your wife – it defeats the purpose if she’s onboard with the idea. This is an act of independence – an act of rebellion. And hair grows back. And for those people that still have a problem, they need to grow up. Everyone needs to grow up – except him – and me.

Would I do it again? Definitely. We are going to keep the Mohawk for the summer. But I’m already in planning mode for what funky hairstyle to get him next. None of this Justin Bieber crap. Old school – maybe long hair like they had in AC/DC or KISS. Or dreadlocks! Stay tuned…