A few years back, the boys started going to their mom’s hair stylist to get hair cuts.
I know what you’re thinking. How could I let boys go to a hair stylist?
I had no choice. My youngest had just had his ear clipped by a barber. It wasn’t a big cut, but it did bleed, and it was enough to make him scared of barbers.
This past week, while my wife was in Texas, I decided to try again.
My youngest and I dropped his older brother off at cub scouts, and headed to Great Clips. He was a little nervous, but I explained that I thought he was old enough to stop going to a lady’s hair stylist.
That was enough for him.
The place was empty, so we sat in the chairs across from each other to get our hair cuts at the same time.
For a few minutes, there was nothing but the sound of scissors. Then I heard him ask his barber if she could please not cut his ear.
She stopped, horrified. “Did I cut you?”
“No, no.” He held his hands out to explain. “But I was cut once before, and it really hurt. So I just wondered if you could be careful.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t cut you.”
“Cause it really hurt,” he said again.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I won’t hurt you.”
“Are you sure?”
The lady cutting my hair chuckled quietly.
“No pressure, huh?” I asked.
She shook her head, still laughing.
In the mirror, I could see my son getting the world’s slowest haircut, with his barber carefully working her way around his ear.