My almost-eight very brilliant son whom I love so much was having a conversation with me on Shabbos.

"Mommy," he says slowly, "How c ome Bracha Raiza [my daughter] has long hair but you had short hair when you were little?"  Of course I kvell over his astute early grasp of genetics before bursting his bubble.

"I had short hair because Babby--my Mommy--cut it. Hair grows long unless you cut it."

"Oh." He thinks this over for a moment. Then he says, "Mommy, when I'm older and have a baby girl, will you let me get her ears pierced when she's still in the hospital?"

Lest you think I am a fierce advocate or detractor of early infant ear-piercing, allow me to quickly rise to my own defense and inform you that I have no strong convictions either way. The only time I think ear piercing borders on necessity is when Hashem blesses you with one of those bald, not-quite-feminine-looking girl babies who people constantly mistake for a boy.

But back to my son. I was so touched by the innocence of the question and the heart-breaking premise behind it, namely that I, the parent, would be the decision-maker on through his adulthood and his own child-raising. I gently told him that when he's a father he'll make his own decisions; I will no longer be in charge. He blinked and nodded. I think he knew it intuitively anyway.

I'm sure it is hard to let go when that times comes 'round. For now, I'm content with my role as Chief Earpiercing Officer and Executive Haircut Decider (Long hair only, please. Not that I have childhood haircut trauma or anything!). There is something very magical and astounding about being entrusted with the opportunity to shape my children through my own words, thoughts, and values. Of course, it's also scary as all-out.

Either way, my friend told me I made a mistake in answering my son, Dovid. She said I blew it--I should have told Dovid that I would not let him pierce his daughter's ears; that I should have taken advantage of the opportunity to plant the seeds and assert my role as decision-maker even when he's a grown-up. She's just joking, of course, but the thought is a dangerous one. 

Apron strings are a suffocation hazard.

 

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