Bubba, my eight-year-old son, was looking a little shaggy. "Mama, I want to go to the barber!" He said.
"Can't we just go to Great Clips? It would be faster," I said.
"No, Mama. We have to go to the barber."
I didn't feel like arguing, so I took him there. The barber is located in the quaint downtown area of Loveland, Ohio. It always feels like you're stepping back in time when you go. And walking into the barber shop is no different. The barber is a nice old man who wears one of those white barber smocks. Cans of brylcreem and aftershave line the shelves. You wouldn't believe it unless you saw it.
Anyway, the man cut my son's hair. When he was done, he asked my boy if he wanted a shave.
"I don't have whiskers yet," Bubba answered.
The barber looked closely. "You have peach fuzz. Those are going to turn into whiskers pretty soon."
Bubba took a closer look in the mirror. "Hmm," he said. "I'm going to keep an eye on that peach fuzz, and as soon as I see a whisker, I'll be back for a shave!"
In case I'm not here tomorrow, I'd like to wish everyone who celebrates Easter a very Happy Easter!