School picture day tomorrow.
I have a thing about my boys’ hair. I like it short. Maybe I’m living vicariously, wanting to shave my own head.
Well, then, I have shaved my own head. Once or twice. Okay, I kept my hair incredibly short for many years.
It is so much easier to take care of short hair. No brushes, no combs and if the soap doesn’t all get out, no problem. Hose them off at the kitchen sink for a second and you are all set.
They all went to the barbershop yesterday. One Little Leaguer, and two trims. Jake looks incredibly cute with the Little Leaguer, hair cut to a one, little extra to spike up front.
A “one” is when the buzzer is as low as it goes. I never knew there was a special language in the barbershop. Ones, twos, fades, Little Leaguers, trims, Whiffles and crew cuts. The first few times I went to the barbershop, I was lost. I finally asked Walter to explain the language so I would get that cute little spiky front that I liked so much.
On the boys, not me.
Zachary’s trim came out great but Ben was unhappy.
The guy was so old, he said. I didn’t want to say anything. I just wanted out of the chair.
And the beauty of having two dads with very short hair is they have their own buzzers. So Allan had Ben sit down, wrapped a sheet around him on the back porch and started to cut.
Does he know what he’s doing? Ben asked, looking at me out of the corner of his eye so as not to move his head.
I dunno. His hair looks fine.
He goes to the barber.
I can do this, Allan assures him. The buzzer flies.
Ouch. Ow. Ouch. Ow.
Ben, does it really hurt?
Why don’t you ever say that in the barbershop?
Because I don’t know him.
And so the pain continued until the cut was finished.
Much better, Ben declared after viewing his beautiful self in the mirror.
Fresh hair cuts. Still tan from the summer.
Ready for school picture day.