About a month ago, we took our two sons to get haircuts. It was two-year-old Léo?s first time getting a professional cut, so we took him to the Montreal salon where his big brother, Gabriel, has had most of his haircuts. Gabriel, who?s eight, was up first and like always, his fresh cut made him look more mature than the baby-faced boy that I like to think of him as. Nonetheless, we were happy with the results. Léo was up next. But what was supposed to be a fun, photo-worthy milestone turned into something?different.
As I waited with Gabriel outside the salon (due to COVID rules), my partner texted me from inside:
?The stylist says he doesn?t have the tools, so he?s not comfortable.?
I went back in and saw that Léo did in fact get a haircut, just a very sloppy one. In fact, it looked like the stylist had given up halfway through the job. He awkwardly tried to explain that it wasn?t his fault, and that cutting ?that kind of hair? is not taught in beauty schools. He recommended we take Léo to a different barber.  I nodded my head and said ?OK,? but I could feel a tight lump forming in my throat as we left the salon. I tried to rationalize it away. It?s just a haircut. It isn?t that big of a deal. Léo is too young to remember anyway. I told myself I was overreacting. 
But what if he did remember" He would probably wonder why his big brother could get his hair cut, but he couldn?t. He wouldn?t understand (yet) how his first haircut became an introduction to the oth...