Every Thursday or so, Matthew swears he’s getting a haircut that weekend, à la Lucy and the football. I don’t really believe him any more, but there must be a little bit of Charlie Brown in me, because I just had one of the now-familiar moments of startlement when I looked over at him and got a glimpse of the craziness on top of his head. He asked me which category I’d put his current ‘do in: “attractively messy” or “oh man, I have to walk past *that* guy” messy. Now he’s wearing his hat.