I snapped this image of J Sunday morning as he got ready to attend a friend’s birthday party. He had dressed himself to his taste and was combing his hair into a bona fide style.

Shortly after I took this, he groaned in exasperation. He couldn’t get his hair to cooperate in achieving his vision. I intervened, fixed his comically askew part, and the style took care of itself.

Not long ago, he couldn’t see over the counter to the mirror at all. And at some point, perhaps in the not too distant future, checking his reflection will become an important part of his daily routine.

I am watching my son seemingly right in the in-between. He has a preferred hairstyle, but wouldn’t have taken the time to comb his hair at all had I not suggested it as a method to mask how delinquent I have been giving him a trim. He dresses himself in the morning and has favorite pants or sweaters he will always choose if they are clean, but those favorites are almost exclusively based on softness of the fabric. He has lost his front teeth and wears that charming gap so well, but I know when his permanent teeth come in, their feature alone will make him appear significantly older. He has this lovely little social life and goes from party to party on the weekends, but the parties are mock science labs, or Lego-themed, or take place at arcades where he can only just barely reach the pedal of the race car games.

What a sweet phase, this in-between.

Related: a glimpse into the fashion sense of my sons // Going on seven.