LOCK STOCCK!

Standing with a pair of scissors in my hand, it was time to give my son a trim.

‘Sit still, I don’t want to cut your ear,’ I told Gabriel, then eight.

‘Fine,’ he huffed.

I’d been cutting his hair for years, but he hated having to sit still while I did so.

‘There, all done,’ I told him.

‘Wasn’t too bad, was it?’

‘No,’ he shrugged.

It was hard not to laugh at his cross little face as he got up from the chair.

‘I think I want to try growing my hair out,’ he told me a little while afterwards.