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My 8-Year-Old Son Came Home From the Barber With Half His Hair Cut—When the Crying Barber Told Me Why, I Went Pale

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old and already softer hearted than most grown men I knew.

He had been going to Mr. Lewis’s barbershop three blocks away since he was four. Mr. Lewis knew Tyler liked the Cardinals, kept grape lollipops behind the counter for him, and always let him choose the music.

“You gonna walk carefully?”

“Mom. I’ve done it a hundred times.”

“Humor your old mother.continue reading …

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