I’ve been taking my son to one of those haircutting places where you sit in a mini-airplane or fire truck and stay pleasantly distracted by mind-numbing cartoons ever since he was two. After the first haircut, he never had big tears or major discomfort. He loves it when they wash his hair, takes direction well and only moderately winces when they brush out the tangles.
What we do have trouble with, however, is the hairdresser’s universal fear of the mullet.
My son prefers that his hair stay on the long side, even when it prompts his friends to say things to him like “you look like a fashion girl,” as one did the other day. He looked in he mirror and said. “Hm. Yeah, I do a little” before shrugging it off. I adore the fact that he’s man enough to look how he likes to look and not mind a little girl confusion, at least for now.
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