This is my handsome teenage son on the day he asked me for a haircut.
Doesn't he have great eyes?
He also has great patience and humility.
Because in a three-phase haircut that started on Sunday night and ended Monday morning before school, I managed to butcher the bejeepers out of his hair.
He went off to school, and came home looking somber.
I watched him walk in the door, and I'm sure my cringing was visible.
He said at least six people had noticed his hair, but no one seemed to have anything to say about it. I knew what he meant. The monster divot in his bangs left me speechless.
And a little sick to my stomach.
We had a very full afternoon, and he had places to be.
He didn't want to be there anymore with the same hair.
So we made a detour to the budget hair salon.
He walked in after his too-chicken-to-show-her-face mother made the phone call and dropped him at the door. I ran to pick up another child from soccer practice, and zoomed back to pick him up. He was not in the salon (trust me, I still didn't get out of the car; the glass front allowed me to see in) and there was this guy walking up the sidewalk towards us. His seven-minute haircut had allowed him to pass the time in the gaming shop next door, and he had spied us coming.
He looked almost like he had stepped out of military training school~older, wiser, and VERY handsome. And to my delight? He seemed happy, and I made a discovery: "Hello eyebrows!" he has an amazing set of man brows now. I hadn't really seen them since he was about ten, and they've matured quite nicely. He allowed me to gush about how handsome he was. And then I dropped him off at practice.