Kwentong Barbero

You were only seven months when we first brought you to the parlor. And we chose one with lots of distractions since we didn't know how you would react to a pair of scissors snipping your hair away.

But you were a good boy. Well behaved. Hardly complained as the barber went about his work. Thanks in large part to Barney who kept you company on the small TV in front of you.

In less than fifteen minutes it was done. Your first rite of passage from a baby to a young boy.

From then on, at least once every three months, we would go back to the same parlor. Barney was still there. And Dora and Boo too. And you looked forward to each trip. Because of the goodies the barber gave you after each haircut. And because of gym play in nearby Gymboree that inevitably followed.

After you turned three, you chose not to go to the same parlor anymore. You were now a big boy and wanted to go to a big boy barber shop. So off we went to Bruno's. Papa on one chair and you right beside him. And for the first time ever, thanks to the large mirror in front of you, you witnessed how hair was actually cut.

You were so fascinated with what you saw that upon reaching home you got your own pair of scissors and cut your own hair!


And so back to the barber shop we went, where in less than five minutes, the electric razor left you hairless. Lesson learned. And so we hope.

And now that you're four, our barber tales continue. Like the time we went to this shop where instead of powder and a white brush, the barber used a vacuum to remove the bits of hair around your neck.

Haircuts, my son, are milestones. Bonding moments between you and me and Mommy. Memories we will keep forever. Even when we no longer have hair.