Barber Shop

Mr. Snip Snip Snip

As a parent, if you let yourself, there are several times each day you want to cry. Most of the time you tamp it down. Drop them off. Hug. Wave. Move onto work. But sometimes, you allow yourself the quiet. You leave NPR off in the car. You go from tucking them in, to a quiet moment on the porch. You leave your phone alone and maybe go another moment or two before checking that text.It is the mental pictures you can really savor. These are the moments so packed with feelings a camera can only do shorthand. The feelings you cannot really talk about or share. The moments everyone warns you go so fast, and then when they are a little bit older disappear altogether. (that cannot be true!) I took my boys to the barber shop with Stephie yesterday. We hit it just under the wire after soccer before the shop closed. Yes, we were driving a minivan. Yes, it was a negotiation. Jackson was wanting a buzz cut so he could “feel his sweat”. “Dad, feel how much I am sweating!” Asher was the problem. We have been trying to get Asher (our three year old) to get a haircut for months now. Have not pressed that hard. Don’t really care. Just thought the bowl that was growing on his head needed a little shaping. Really….not that big a deal except that he is photographed every single day, and will be the poster boy on milk cartons in the near future. He likes the vanilla flavored milk. The negotiation was this: Asher could sit in the chair at the barber next to Jackson. We could go to Boulder Freeze for desert (and, most importantly get rainbow sprinkles). Only days before we went to the same low rent barber shop I go to, and Asher put on a show for the barber’s while I got my haircut. The barber shop was empty - it was just after morning rush hour and way before lunch. When I was done with my #1 buzz, I tried to get Asher up on a kid’s seat. He looked around and said, “I am not getting my hair cut in an empty barber shop!” The barbers all laughed, albeit nervously, as we exited. My boys get points for being audacious within reason. Asher won that battle. So the next night both boys were in the barber chairs. Jackson getting his modified buzz. Asher putting on another kind of show sporting his black cape. The only thing that held back a river of tears was my camera. I could not stop shooting. The boys mostly ignore me. This was just all too much. How can anyone look so beautiful under fluorescent light? When I downloaded the pictures I turned Miles Davis up loud enough to drown out my tears. Jim Morrison had been on before that. It was a soft parade. Oh, stop being so sensitive. Oh, but that is where all the good stuff happens. Later in the evening, I turned off the light and told Jackson what I always tell him before he goes to sleep, “I love being your, Daddy.” To which he says, “I love being your Jackson.” Tonight I added, “Jackson, you are really great.” To which he replied, “You’re really great too, Dad.”