Baby’s first haircut: curls, culture and a cautious mum’s compromise

There’s something oddly emotional about a baby’s first haircut, isn’t there? That moment when those soft baby curls, once sticky with mashed banana and milk, are suddenly deemed ready for the scissors. For us, it wasn’t just a haircut. It was a cultural crossroads wrapped in a cloud of blonde fluff and parental diplomacy.

The Persian tradition (and the perils of DIY)

Our little Persian prince, Cyrus, had reached that milestone. A blonde-curled pesar tala (golden boy) with hair that shimmered like spun sugar under the light. Then along came his baba with his bright idea: “It’s only hair. I can do it at home.”

I gave him a look that could curdle milk. You know the one. The don’t-even-think-about-it glare inherited from generations of disapproving Persian mothers. Traditionally, Persian boys have their heads completely shaved in their first year, a symbolic cleansing and fresh start. But not in our house, not this time. Not when those curls had taken nine long months to reach adorableness.

The thought of my husband wielding clippers in the kitchen, bowl in one hand, baby in the other, filled me with dread. Let’s just say, visions of 1980s-style home haircuts haunted me into action.

Welcome Pikku Hair Salon

So off we trotted off to Pikku Hair Salon on Gosforth High Street, Newcastle. A friend had raved about it, a haven for little ones’ first trims, complete with themed chairs and iPads. Booking online was simple, and yes, I may have chosen our stylist with the same level of scrutiny one might apply to a new childminder.

Walking in, we were greeted by what can only be described as a modern parenting utopia: a calm, bright salon, the faint scent of bubblegum shampoo in the air, and not a screaming toddler in sight. Cyrus got to choose his car-chair (Persian blue, naturally) and a film on the iPad dashboard. Disney’s Cars, obviously.

Keeping calm and snipping on

Then came the tricky part: the snip. Zoe, our stylist, worked with the precision of a neurosurgeon and the patience of a saint. Armed with her water spray and plastic cape, she managed to cut those curls without a single tear, his or mine.

“The tiny snips fell like golden confetti, and just like that, Cyrus looked a touch more boy than cherub.”

I watched on, holding my breath, silently thanking Pixar for its hypnotic powers. The tiny curls fell gracefully, and just like that, Cyrus looked a little older, a little cheekier.

A British trim, not a Persian shave

Here in the UK, we tend to cling to the baby look for as long as we can. No full shaves or dramatic transformations, thank you very much. Just a gentle tidy-up, a symbolic growing up, but not too fast.

Cyrus emerged from his car-chair grinning, clutching a green balloon and a certificate announcing his “First Haircut Achievement.” We even left with two little bags of his golden locks.

Reflections of a sentimental mum

So there it was: £13.50 later, curls snipped, milestone achieved, and a memory sealed forever in the baby album. He looked older, cheekier, and I, predictably felt a tiny pang of loss.

Parenthood is full of firsts you can’t redo. The first word, the first step, the first haircut. Each one a quiet reminder that time, like hair, keeps growing whether you’re ready or not.