Ode to the Tuft

Though Henry has many excellent attributes, The Tuft stands out as his defining feature.  It's eye-catching (everyone immediately comments on it when they meet him), original (neither Karl nor I had such glorious hair), and ironic (his most serious face cannot be taken seriously below a three-inch tuft), and it deserves its own post.  

When he was born, Henry just looked like he had some extra hair on the back of his head.  It partially hid the red bullseye on his skull from the birth vacuum.

 

The first real bath set it free.  His hair was curly when wet, and dried straight but fluffy.

By Thanksgiving, he had quite an impressive crest going on.

  

see also:

We took pictures of The Tuft because we thought it was so funny. 
The fun was only beginning.

 

Sometimes The Tuft gets into a Kewpie mood:

 

How creepy are Kewpie dolls?

Then there was the Cockatoo phase. 

The Tuft was probably at its most absurd in January, when it had grown long enough to be truly spectacular but not so long that gravity could drag it down.

It even had its own shadow. 

No matter how serious you look, kid,
we cannot take you seriously with hair like that. 
Or with your belly bursting the snaps of your onesie.

 Henry's clearly ready to appear on Top Chef.

The Florida humidity made The Tuft kind of curly.  Welcome to being a Wolff, kiddo.

 One day The Tuft fell over into a very dapper side part, like
Henry was auditioning to be an extra on Mad Men. 

Not for long.

Tuft/bald-spot combo.  I'm sure there's
a mullet joke in here somewhere.

Who needs product when you're naturally this awesome?