At 6 month's old, K's daughter S is just coming out of that I'm-too-small-to-do-anything-beyond-regulate-my-own-body-function stage (also known as infancy) and is a beautiful and smart baby.  As a result of her recent mini-metamorphosis, however, she has begun to molt, trading her "birth hair" for real baby hair.  Now most parents would tenderly clip this molten hair and put it into a plastic baggie to preserve for posterity (I confess, being childless myself, I find this a little bit gross, kind of like saving fingernail clippings), but not K.  She has always been a very emotional person (perhaps why she is such a great writer), and stubbornly clings to this bit of hair - refusing to clip it as if it were the second umbilical cord, that last vestige of that awesome moment when mother met child.  Here's where my comment came in -- I politely pointed out that the child that emerged from her womb was still there - playing right before our very eyes - and that indeed a plastic bag (despite my aforementioned misgivings) might better preserve this souvenir.  OK, I may have been a bit harsher and the word Mullet may have been thrown in there a few times (and "vestigial tail" may have even entered the conversation at one point), but I felt I was assuming the role of child advocate.  S's mullet is not insignificant and if other babies could talk, they would definitely mock it.     

K has attributed her need to keep the mullet to what is perhaps her fatal flaw, her tendency to hoard, to preserve the past through seemingly insignificant objects.  I find her observation funny - not because it is untrue (K and I were roommates once many moons ago and I can personally attest to the... ahem... inclination toward preservation) - but rather because, reflecting back on the mullet conversation, I thought of how it reflected on me and what kind of person/ friend I am.  Why did I feel the need to comment on S's mullet?  K and her husband M seem to doing a perfectly good job of raising their daughter - all without my keen insight.  Why not let it alone?

Of course, I know the answer.  I feel the need to "fix" the lives of those I love.  Well, to be honest, it's a bit more than that: I feel that I can live their lives better than they can.  My mom, she really needs to get organized - I practically forced her to purge her basement of unnecessary "crap" earlier this summer.  My mother-in-law, she really needs a new job - she is so talented and they don't appreciate her at that damn job.  P should really stop doing favors for everyone under the sun and letting them take advantage of him.  And K?  She should cut her daughter's mullet, so that she doesn't grow up to wear fake nails and acid-washed jeans. 

In the end, though, I realize that these "flaws" that I am picking on are exactly the reasons that I love these people.  My mom has so much "crap" because she has always let me and my brothers keep whatever we wanted and because she's a really nice person and people give her a lot of gifts, which she then refuses to give away.  My mother-in-law's job allows her to Work From Home, which allows her to be around for her kids whenever they need her.  People ask P for favors because he is smart, reliable, and helpful - would I want him not to be?  And K - she keeps the mullet because she is a hoarder, but also because she is a warm and loving person, who is cherishing each moment of motherhood.

So, K, keep the mullet.  I promise to keep my mouth shut.  Well for a limited time - if this starts approaching first grade territory, we may need to revisit the issue...