Don't know if you noticed, but John's hair had been getting long. He needed a haircut when we moved at Christmas. We went to get our hair cut when we got to Calgary, with the intention of getting him done, too, but he was pooped, and slept through the entire appontment. One day, dad had had enough, and went at John with kitchen scissors. He did an alright job - a bit mulletish, but not bad.
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