Shave and a Haircut
When Sam is a teenager and we are fighting about dating, driving, college or girls, I need to remember today - our first fight about something somewhat mature. A haircut.
For several months now Sam has been sporting a very shaggy hair "style." I personally think he looks better with a shorter cut, clean cut if you will, but thanks to Justin Beiber, even boys who don't like the Bieb know girls like boys who look like the Bieb.
But the final straw was Sunday during church. Sam's choir was singing and his choir teacher made a special effort to tamp down his hair before their performance. A sign from God (or fairly close - a church choir director) to cut that hair.
So today after school we made a surprise trip to the barber shop. No Cool Cuts. No video games. No toys. The barber shop. Adult men talking about sports and the weather. $1o cash.
The minute the barber finished and Sam got down I knew there was going to be trouble. I know that face and he was holding back anger and tears. He held it in until we got home, then he kicked open the door, threw down his backpack and stamped upstairs.
"Sam! Get down here. I have one thing to say about this, and you'll stand here and listen ... Do you trust me?"
"You mean before today?"
"Do you trust that I want you to be happy and safe?"
"Maybe."
"Well, I do. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to have a bad haircut any more than you do. I wouldn't sit there and let him give you a bad haircut. But moreover, it's hair. It will grow back. Don't you think I've had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad has had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad wishes he had hair? So I suggest you man up and find something else to complain about."
After about 30 minutes he came to ask me for a snack as if nothing had happened. I pulled him into the bathroom and showed him how good it could look with some hair gel in it. And he started to turn around.
And then the fountain of truth, Abby, came home. The first thing she said ... "Sam, you don't look so handsome with your hair all gone like that."
For several months now Sam has been sporting a very shaggy hair "style." I personally think he looks better with a shorter cut, clean cut if you will, but thanks to Justin Beiber, even boys who don't like the Bieb know girls like boys who look like the Bieb.
But the final straw was Sunday during church. Sam's choir was singing and his choir teacher made a special effort to tamp down his hair before their performance. A sign from God (or fairly close - a church choir director) to cut that hair.
So today after school we made a surprise trip to the barber shop. No Cool Cuts. No video games. No toys. The barber shop. Adult men talking about sports and the weather. $1o cash.
The minute the barber finished and Sam got down I knew there was going to be trouble. I know that face and he was holding back anger and tears. He held it in until we got home, then he kicked open the door, threw down his backpack and stamped upstairs.
"Sam! Get down here. I have one thing to say about this, and you'll stand here and listen ... Do you trust me?"
"You mean before today?"
"Do you trust that I want you to be happy and safe?"
"Maybe."
"Well, I do. I want you to be happy. I don't want you to have a bad haircut any more than you do. I wouldn't sit there and let him give you a bad haircut. But moreover, it's hair. It will grow back. Don't you think I've had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad has had bad haircuts? Don't you think Dad wishes he had hair? So I suggest you man up and find something else to complain about."
After about 30 minutes he came to ask me for a snack as if nothing had happened. I pulled him into the bathroom and showed him how good it could look with some hair gel in it. And he started to turn around.
And then the fountain of truth, Abby, came home. The first thing she said ... "Sam, you don't look so handsome with your hair all gone like that."
posted by Romine Family at 9:07 PM
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