It was a typical Sunday morning when I found myself in a standoff with my 9-year-old son, Max, about the simple act of combing his hair. This was the one day of the week I insisted he make an effort to look presentable. I wanted him to stand out in a good way at church, rather than blend in with the other boys who seemed to shuffle in with wild, unkempt hair and wrinkled shirts. It baffled me how those kids could drag themselves into a building where they should be putting their best foot forward for just a few hours.
As a parent, it’s frustrating to know your child is truly special, but that uniqueness often seems lost when their appearance doesn’t reflect it. You want the world to see their inner beauty just as clearly as you do, yet sometimes it’s hard to look past the outer chaos—like when Max attends church with his zipper undone.
The reality of young boys is that, no matter what time it is, they often look like they just rolled out of bed. I work at a university, and I can’t help but worry that Max might never outgrow this phase. I can easily envision him as a quirky 20-something in my classroom, with hair that looks like it was styled in a windstorm, smelling faintly of chips and body odor, blissfully unaware of how he presents himself to the world.
Max was holed up in his room, sprawled out on his bed and staring at the ceiling. I approached, mulling over whether this battle was worth fighting. Part of me imagined a future scenario where he developed a crush in junior high, only to be rejected because of his messy hair. I can picture it—a girl with sun-kissed hair looking him in the eye and saying, “Sorry, but your hair is just too much.”
Of course, he’d be upset. I’d rush in to comfort him, and surely he’d eventually come to realize the importance of grooming. But in reality, my daydream of his future disappointment was mainly me projecting my feelings onto him.
I sat down on the edge of his bed and said, “Hey, buddy, this isn’t a big deal. Just comb your hair. I only ask this once a week. Look, I can grab the comb and the water bottle, and you can stay right there.”
His response was dramatic as he waved his hands, exclaiming, “No, no, no!”—much like a character from a movie enduring a moment of sheer horror. I briefly questioned if I was being too much of an overbearing father, but deep down, I knew I was simply asking him to comb his hair.
Eventually, he gave in, took a quick trip to the bathroom, and emerged with a small wet spot on the crown of his head, evidence of a half-hearted attempt to tame his wild locks.
“Did you use a comb?” I asked.
Max rolled his eyes and shrugged, saying, “I don’t see the point.”
I led him back to the bathroom, and to my surprise, he didn’t resist. I spritzed his hair with water and combed through the tangles, parting it to give him a charming boyish look. We looked in the mirror together, and I smiled at him; he returned the smile with that familiar half-grin he wears when he’s trying not to show too much emotion. I thought maybe, just maybe, I had gotten through to him.
Then, just as I was about to praise how great he looked, he reached up and rubbed his scalp, mashing his hair forward again. While he didn’t look as neat as he had moments before, he was certainly better than he was when we started. I took a breath and crouched next to him, asking the question I always ask to encourage him to care more about his appearance. “Is combing your hair really that bad?”
“Yes,” he nodded. “I just want to look the way I want to look.”
As much as I wanted to argue with him about the future expectations he would face, like dress codes and professionalism, I held my tongue. I knew that every lesson isn’t learned in one fell swoop. Instead, it’s a series of small battles and compromises, and while I hoped I’d fixed something in that moment, the truth was, I probably hadn’t—not yet.
“You’ll figure it out one day,” I said, giving him a wink. He rolled his eyes in response, but we both climbed into the van and headed off to church.
As parents, we often face these little frustrations that aren’t about the big issues, but rather the everyday choices our kids make, like combing their hair or trying the dinner we put on the table. In those heated moments, it’s easy to forget that growth comes in increments, through countless discussions and negotiations.
For more insightful resources on parenting and personal growth, check out this excellent guide on family-building options here. And if you’re curious about home insemination kits, you can explore more about them here. You might also consider the safety of your home environment with tips from this trusted source.
Summary
A father reflects on the challenges of getting his son to comb his hair before church, navigating the balance between encouraging self-expression and instilling a sense of presentation. Through humorous anecdotes and relatable moments, he highlights the importance of small lessons in parenting, knowing that growth is a gradual process.