You, Roman, were born and blessed with a head full of hair. You came out of my body with a full mop of the stuff; a reddy blonde mop of hair, to be more exact. Like me, you were a newborn with a killer mohawk.
I styled this mohawk for our afternoon stroll out together but it suddenly went flat (I'm glad I snapped a few shots before hand) with your head pressed up against the buggy. You're such a styling little dude, with knock out looks to match. I'm going to have to lock you up until you're 31.