This morning I did something I hadn’t done since March—I cut my hair. Well, not just me. My 15-year-old son helped. Actually, he did most of it.
It started simply. I’d let it grow long over the spring and summer. Maybe part of me was hanging onto something. Maybe I just didn’t feel like dealing with it. But today felt like the right time to change things up. I grabbed the electric razor, popped on the #2 blade, and said, “Let’s do this.”
At first, he was nervous. Fair enough—cutting someone else’s hair isn’t exactly a common Saturday morning activity, and he didn’t want to mess it up. But once I jumped in and started shearing off the long parts, he saw it wasn’t such a big deal. No magic. No strings attached. Just clippers and trust.
That’s when he took over.
He focused, asked good questions, and took his time. You could tell he wanted to get it right—not because I told him to, but because he cared. Somewhere along the way, the nerves faded. He leaned in. Laughed a little. Adjusted the angle. Checked his work.
When he was done, I looked in the mirror—and honestly, I liked what I saw. Yeah, it’s a close cut, and sure, with white hair it makes my scalp more visible. He said, “It kinda makes you look bald,” and I laughed. “It’s not bald—it’s just pink under there.”
We both stood back and looked. He was proud. So was I.
There aren’t a ton of opportunities for a teenager to really shine outside of school or sports. This was one of them. It wasn’t about perfection or performance. It was about trust, action, and seeing something through. I gave him the razor. He took it seriously. I think that meant something to both of us.
We even snapped some before-and-after photos. Not because the transformation is dramatic, but because it marks a moment. A shift. A connection.
I think I’ll keep it short for a while—maybe grow it out to a 4 or 5 blade—but for now, I’m happy. More than that, I’m grateful.
He gave me a good haircut. And he gave me a good morning.
– Adam Sweet
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