Just finished cutting Blake's hair, and I'd like to tell any of you within, oh, a mile or so that I was not shoving bamboo shoots under his fingernails, despite what it sounded like. For some reason, the sensation of the vibrating clippers combined with the sound absolutely terrifies him. After promising to finish up with scissors and inadvertently poking him behind the ear, we both threw in the towel.
So, for those of you who tell him he needs a haircut, I gratefully cede the responsibility to you. Me? I'm going to learn how to French braid.
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