Lookin' Pretty

 
Its been a work in progress for years, trying to get this boy to grow his hair out. The exchange when he came home from the barber every six weeks was the same:

Him: Why haven't you said anything about my hair?
Me: Because you buzzed it all off again.
Him: You don't like it.
Me: You know I don't.

His father and I recently conspired to finally get him to abandon the clippers, and give those lovely mane some room to breath. His father, a bald man, simply could not understand why a guy with hair that great would just chop it off every other month.

But today, a seemingly kind Indian man who occupies the same cube as my husband and his lustrous I-wanna-be-Patrick-Dempsey locks, might have ruined it all by saying:

"What are you doing with that long hair? You look like a Backstreet Boy. Are you trying to get into male modeling?"

Sigh!