I have never been a fan of going to the barber. I, like Sampson, cried when my locks were first cut and although I've managed to avoid tears for the past several years, I often delay haircuts well past the expiration date of my hairdo.

As such, Charlotte's first official haircut was to be at home. Based on an incident in our North End apartment in Boston which resulted in my seeking immediate, professional assistance after the first pass with the clippers, Kate was out of the running to play amateur barber. The key with cutting a baby's hair is to approach them as you might an animal in the wild -- slowly and with no sign of the scissors that you intend to use.

We cut approximately three dozen hairs between the two of us -- basically eliminating the rat tail that threatened to grow out of Charlotte's lady mullet. But other than that, this was not much of a haircut. As you can see, her locks continue to grow wildly and freely. Out of professional courtesy, we didn't hold up the mirror behind her head -- so that she might not have an opportunity to deride our work, but also to spare her the truth that she is going bald in the back.