Punk Baby

I swear it's natural and unavoidable, though I do admit it's eye-catching.
What I'm talking about, of course, is the hair.
When Zenas was born, our immediate reaction: "Oh, he has his Poppa's hairline!"
But so quickly he rebelled (and I wonder if it's indication of what the future will hold?)
As if to assert that he's his own man, his babyfine hairs down the middle of his head started to stand up.
"How cute, a baby mohawk," said the admirers.
Proud (someone else thinks he's cute!), but a little afraid of suffering vanity by proxy, I carefully brush his hair down, back and in all directions after every bath.
But Zenas still wakes up everyday with that hairdo on his own.
And now that it's getting longer, there's a wild wave to it on some days... the other day, Christian said he looked like Zippy!

Then last night in the bath, I pushed his wet hair down to see what he would look like with a comb-over. Hilarious.
Like his complexion, I can't claim that hair comes from me. In the light it's the color of sweet caramel, the kind that I remember as a Japanese paper-box package of tightly wrapped squares.