I throw the idea out there in casual conversation. He panics and looks worried. We leave it for a day or two to give him time to process the thought.
But ultimately the time comes whether he wants it to or not. I remind him to be brave. Remind him that brave does not mean the absence of fear, but rather the ability to do what must be done, regardless. Tears are okay.
We try everything that we can think of to ease his discomfort. This time he has a go at massaging his own scalp. It’s kind of funny and we giggle a bit. We spray on water and comb it through. A drop or two of oil for the blades.
It’s going to pull. His hair is so thick – we have done all we can. He grimaces as the switch is flicked on. The clippers have not made contact yet.
He does his best to look straight ahead at the magnet with the kittens. Squeezes Dad’s hand when it pulls a bit. Or if the buzzing gets too much. Little brother stands to the side and offers to sing a soothing song, breaking out in his best rendition of ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.’ I work quickly and remind him what a great job he is doing.
It may be just a haircut to you and me. But for my boy it is an achievement. He has been so brave.
Now, your turn…