He ran the back of his hand over his stubble of whiskers. He wished he had gone with them, at the same time he was glad that he didn’t. He looked at his watch, then held it to his ear.

He looked back out the window and was surprised to see the white car pull to the curb. He straightened up and strode to the door, opening it wide. A smile spread across his face as he watched her scamper from the car and run toward him. Her grandmother, following her, was smiling.

He knelt, holding the screen-door open, as she ran into his waiting arms. “Grandpa, Grandpa. I got haircut." She squealed her blue eyes wide, her wild mop of blonde curls tamed for the moment.

He stood, holding her in his arms, and raised his eyebrows at his wife, who said, “She was a good as gold. You’d never know it was her first haircut.