Playing barber

These are strange times indeed. This is a phase that has encouraged or even forced many of us to pick up skills resulting in interesting experiences. Here’s one of mine.
I decided to play barber. Family was all excited. I gave my son a haircut. Yes, I did. A close crop summer cut. It was fun to comb and snip, snip, snip. I admit I was a little anxious when I started and the scissors felt heavy and the grip a bit strenous. As I ploughed through the thick and lustrous teen forest of hair, the tension melted, giving way to excitement. I was actually cutting hair…like in a real hair cutting saloon. It was like one of my childhood whims had come alive. I was a barber and hairstylist rolled into one.
I remembered the movie Edward Scissorhands. There was no stopping me now as I laboured through the process with determination and thrill, holding the humble craft scissors borrowed from my daughter and a regular fine-toothed comb. My hubby and daughter were next in line and they hung around sporting curious looks on their faces.
Finally I was done. I lifted with a flourish, the towel draped around my son’s neck and dusted off the pieces of hair. I could sense a barberly bounce in my gait as I strutted around admiring my work of art with pride, from different sides and angles. I noticed a few spiky clusters of hair here and there but the style seemed to go well with the times. I handed over a mirror to my son with a triumphant smile and he gave me a thumbs up without even a glance in the direction of his reflection. So eager was the kiddo to return to his games activity.
I turned around to look at my hubby and daughter with dancing eyebrows. It was time for drum roll…
What I got were eye rolls instead, from both of them, before they fled the scene claiming they have changed their minds and would like to grow their hair a little longer.