I haven’t seen my barber since winter, so I let my 11-year-old cut my hair
In most cases, asking your child to cut your hair belongs in the Hall of Fame of Horrible Ideas.
If they are ages 14 to 17, you may have stamped your ticket to the emergency room after they “accidentally” stab you repeatedly in the head with a pair of scissors.
If they are less ages 9 or under, there is a good chance you will lose part of an ear by genuine accident when they fumble with the scissors.
However, if they are ages 10 to 13, that is your window. The risk of minor humiliation is high, but the risk of major injury — “accidental” or accidental — is low.
Like everybody else on the planet, I enjoyed the fun of going without a haircut for the last three plus months. There are only so many months in a row you can wear a hat.
Going to “my guy” for a cut felt wrong. And after this long of a hair hiatus, a dog groomer was more appropriate.
Sensing an opportunity to seal my bid to win the 2020 Father of the Year ribbon, two days before Father’s Day I asked my 11-year-old daughter to give me the chop. I was going to ask for her a cut ‘n’ color, but since she has never done either I thought we should just do a styling first.
There were stipulations to this “request.” She was not allowed to watch any how to videos on YouTube, and if she butchered my coif I was returning her dog to the pound.
Moms and dads, this is a wonderful way to create a bonding experience with your kid, provided you gave up on your appearance a long time ago.
Letting your kid cut your hair says that you love your child more than competing Instagram parents, and it provides proof that you no longer care what they think about you.
You are truly above it all.
Now, not everyone is as fortunate as myself to extend this opportunity to their kid. This is possible for two reasons:
No. 1 - You can actually find a pair of clippers.
While the run on toilet paper in America became a running joke, other products ran low to non-existent.
Then there are hair trimmers. As our quarantine fun began, my clippers broke.
And then everyone on the planet bought the clippers at their local store. For months.
Thankfully a friend bailed me out.
No. 2 - I still have my hair. I thank God every day for extending me this gift, and Iron Man-like superhero power.
Eight years ago, in a Britney Spears-like meltdown, I shaved my head down to the scalp.
Former Dallas Cowboys scout, online contributor to the team’s website, and current co-host on 105.3 The Fan, Bryan Broaddus did not find this funny. Mr. Broaddus is what scientists call “follicly challenged.”
Broaddus told me, in no uncertain terms, that not only was it not funny but that I was never to do it again.
I took the warning to heart, and have since appreciated every day I don’t lose my coif. Any time I see a hair land in the sink I lose one year of my life.
When my hair is gone, what little I contribute to society will be no more.
Letting her work on my hair with a pair of dull scissors was not my best idea. Electric clippers, it was a marginal improvement.
She felt bad that she was messing up my hair, which, she was. And it could not be any worse than it has for the last 99 days.
Alas, I got the hair cut I needed, and what I paid for.
There are three large holes where my scalp is now exposed. It looks like a billy goat grazed on my head. But other than that she did a great job.
Her next assignment: Back wax.
