I took Bert for a haircut today, the poor boy was looking like nobody owned him (or those who did didn’t cut his hair). I first started visiting Doug The Barber almost six years ago and one of the best things about being a dad is being able to take my sons to a good old fashioned, if not slightly eccentric, barber.
This morning it was Dad Day at Doug’s, three of us with young boys, all about the same age in tow. I feel so sorry for the first dad in line – his poor boy (Will, as we all learnt) was obviously not happy to be there and shrieked at the top of his lungs for the entire cut. No matter what dad tried, even mentioning mum, could get young Will to calm down.
The dad after me came in with a young boy and girl; boy for haircut and girl most likely ’cause mum wanted the peace and quiet. The girl would have been a little older than Bert and sat there making googly eyes at him the whole time. Bert, being a typical male, was completely unaware that a pretty lady wanted to say hi and happily sat and listened to stories. Must have a word to him one day.
Our cut went well, Bert loves the chair and busied himself shooing imaginary flies from the cape around his neck. Mumma is happy, Dadda is proud and Bert looks like a real boy again.
I hated the barber as a kid. Something about the strop hanging there and my father saying it was to use on us if we misbehaved.
My best friends boys love the local barber.
Do they happen to live around Yarraville/Seddon?