Sliding all over the kitchen floor with our socks too big for out little feet.
Mama wasn't home.
He was always a clever one-
Imagination was seen with every blink.
He often tested the water - this time would be no different:
He would be a barber today -
"Short or long?" was his only inquiry.
Although young, I trusted him.
As the sheers began to cut,
Red hair began to fall like snow.
Curl after curl, it all fell silently
Until he was finished with his creation.
Back to the kitchen we went,
To slip and slide with our socks too big.
When Mama finally came home -
She cried.
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