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When did boys start caring about their hair?

I have been trained by a father, brothers, friends, boyfriends and a husband in the few grooming rituals that exist for the males of our species, and I am keenly aware of the scant care and maintenance that goes on 90 percent of the time.

It was one of the reasons I was glad to have only male children; I figured their lack of concern about their appearance would be one less thing for me to worry about.

And I was glad I wouldn't finally have to learn how to braid.

But I have discovered that even boys who don't care how their hair looks every day still care deeply about their hair.

This is truly an education for those of us filled with sugar and spice, who generally spend hundreds of dollars on fancy haircuts and then feel like it is a daily, time-consuming challenge to get our hair looking at least presentable.

My oldest son, who is 7, and I have had several debates over the years about how he wants to wear his hair. But, at the same time, I know that he would rather be tackled face first into the snow than have to use a hairbrush on a daily basis.

And it shows. The best thing about this winter is that has given his hair an excuse to look like it is styled in a blender.

The hair deliberations began when my son was really little — like 2 years old — and I told him that I thought spiky hair looked cool.

I told him about how I was a camp counselor in college and there was this little spiky-haired blond boy — Michael Janicki was his name — who was so fun and cute.

My son would smile sweetly at my story and proceed to spend the next couple of years plastering his hair down to his head.

Then, when he was around 4, we were at a kids' haircut place, and one of the boys in a chair near him who was a little bit older was getting a mohawk.

His mother looked pretty unhappy (which now seems about right), but I thought the boy's hair looked pretty good.

I said to my son, "Wouldn't that be cool? Do you want to get a mohawk?"

But he just made a distasteful face and shook his head.

It was around then that I gave up trying to tell him what I thought looked good and relented that he should have control of his hair — I figured it is always better to let kids control something that will grow back.

I did have one rule about his hair, however, and that was that he be able to see past it.

He tends to like to grow his hair out, and since he doesn't dare employ a hair band or tie — lest it could be construed as belonging to a girl — there is nothing to hold his hair back.

So, last week, when I saw him running down the basketball court while pushing the hair out of his eyes, I knew it was a cry (from his hair) for help.

We went to the haircut place the next day, sat down with the woman and each submitted our proposals: I fought for shorter bangs, while he lobbied to keep the length in the back; I wanted a little cleanup around the ears, and he tried to keep his sideburns.

The woman did exactly as we asked, and now my son sports a mullet.

My husband and I find ourselves looking across the room at him, wincing and shaking our heads.

But my son doesn't mind it — I don't know how much he has even thought about it since we got home — and he's the one who has to wear it.

Besides, as I keep telling myself, at least it will grow back.

Contact this columnist at (937) 225-7325 or send e-mail to jikelley@DaytonDailyNews.com.