Just relax...

If you need your hair trimmed, you should really drop by our living room. Abe likes to be a "hair salon guy" and I know he'd take care of you. He carries an old comb and some fake scissors in the waistband of his shorts, sort of holster-style.

Then he will jump on the couch and start roughly combing your hair, then he'll take his hands and start rubbing your head and pushing all your hair forward into your face. Then Abe'll say in his most soothing voice, "relax, relax, it's just fine."  I guess Mike's barber must say that when Mike takes him.

But, of course, it's not exactly fine when one of Abe's most common directives to his customers is that we are going to have to stay overnight. I guess the line between hair salon and emergency room gets blurry when you're four years old.

It is very sweet though when you ask him how you look and he responds, "blootiful." That's why I recommend him to all my immediate family members.