M is for Mohawk

I love Esme's hair. And so does everybody else, judging by all the compliments she gets. As you can see, it's anti-gravity awsomeness is delightful from every angle. The other night I was running my fingers through her fluff when I noticed it was thinning on top. When I realized the mohawk was in danger, documenting it jumped to the top of my to-do list.

It is either coincidence or clairvoyance that the nurse who bathed her in the hospital soon after birth gave her the same hair style that would grow in later.