When I first proposed the idea of growing out my hair, my boss objected, saying I'd look like a wet rat. I managed to change his mind by showing him pictures of my long hair during my university days. I didn't really look like a wet rat.
This past Friday, my wife gave me more than the usual trim. She purposefully but regretfully sliced off a foot-long pony-tail. As my wife worked, my almost three-year-old son, who probably doesn't remember me with shorter hair, excitedly ran around the room, evading the fallen hair, fascinated by the sudden changes in my appearance.
As the haircut neared completion, he proclaimed, "Daddy, you're a boy now!"