Good Bye Noahawk

"You think I don't KNOW my hair looks bad?"

I may be little but I KNOW what your snickers mean.

You call my hair a baby comb over,

make fun of the little pieces of hair that sticks out over my ears.

(My doctor calls those "my pigtails." Great, thanks Dr. Laura.)

My parents call it the Noahawk.

You call it crazy hair, I've been called worse.

Like "what a pretty girl."

I get it.

But, I can't talk to my mom just yet, so what's a boy to do?

I did talk my sister into trimming my hair once, but she got in trouble and she says she won't help me anymore.

So, today, the 'rents take me to a cool place.

I sit in a taxi cab.

I see scissors!

I am beside myself.

I am a new man.

And my mommy hasn't cried (yet.)

Oh, and my sister got a new do, too.

Her hair has gotten crazy curly lately.

The nice lady gave her some layers so now, it's even curlier.