Technically this post title is a lie. If I’m being completely honest then I will admit that Samuel’s first haircut was over the holidays while we were in Canada.
At that point Sam’s hair, particularly in the back and on the sides, was getting to a desperate state. The words hobo baby were possibly appropriate. Because of this neglect of Sam’s ‘do, shortly after we got to my parent’s Richard decided he was going to trim the really long stuff. I was doing something else, God only knows what, but I’m sure it was something important like solving Fermat’s Last Theorem, when Richard said to me, “I’m going to cut Sam’s hair.” And, because I was so very busy drafting that memo for the UN on nuclear disarmament, I responded with a “that’s nice dear” rather than the more appropriate “onlyifyouprythescissorsfrommycolddeadhandswillyoutouchthischild’shairyoumadman”. The next thing I knew my child’s hair looked…
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