A Spring of Joy

The past few months I have been increasingly frustrated at how difficult it is to find a cheap place where I can get the boys’ hair cut without it looking as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. And I’m way too much of a perfectionist to attempt cutting it myself. I gave up on the Hair Corral because they only did one haircut, and it didn’t work with either boy. Brian won’t let me buzz Micah’s hair, so that takes some of the simplicity out of things.

So off they went this morning to the “Haircut Store” as Micah calls it. Brian took them to a little barber shop downtown where he had gotten his best haircut ever from a little 80-ish year old barber who seemed genuinely excited to have the boys come in. When they got home, Brian told me that Asher talked the whole time to the man, who fortunately didn’t hear much of what he said, because he said this: “You look just like my Grandaddy (my Dad). His hair is all gray and there’s not much left either.” Oh, the joys of children… you just never know what they might say. (Sorry, Daddy.)