I took the boys for a(nother) long over-due trip to the barber today. I start to experience slight tinges of guilt leading up to these days because they ask me, every time, if they can start growing their hair out for the summer after this trip. No matter when we go to the barber. Even if summer just ended, they want to already be growing out their hair.

Last time we went, at the start of Lent, I thought maybe that would be the last cut before summer. And I think I may have even told the boys as much. But lo and behold, all the milk I forcefeed everyone is doing the trick. Yesterday, we finally remembered to trim nails ("I have hobbit feet!" remarked one boy. And he was absolutely right.). And today I realized that with Elliott's First Communion two weeks away, there would indeed be another shorning before summer.

Even with all their pleading for summertime growth, the truth is that the boys will still get haircuts in the summer too. They should be grateful; as the barber so frankly told them today, most boys get the Ultimate Haircut at the onset of summer (aka Buzz). While we don't do that, except in cases of emergency (i.e. self-inflicted haircuts), by the time swim team rolls around the boys can't see past their goggles when all that long flowy hair gets in the way. And off we go to the barber again.

I'm sure the boys are starting to catch on to the reality of their life which is a) our school has a strictly-enforced Hair Code and b) so does their father. It's called a Boy's Haircut.

One thing I do love about taking them to the barber (besides getting to torture all four of them at one time) is the utter Manliness of the whole scene.

Today, as Elliott waited for his turn in the chair, he settled on a copy of Hunting magazine to pass the time.

"Guns and Ammo is better than this," he said flipping the pages. He read quietly for a minute and then turned to me. "I was on fire today in Math. You wouldn't believe."