Last night, I attended my sister’s birthday party. I’m not going to give away her age since I place a high value on my life. Let’s say I reached the same milestone a couple of years ago. While chatting with one of her neighbors, he asked if I had any good stories about her. I responded, “There’s quite a library, but I’ll share one of them.“

Being raised Catholic, there were two significant holidays when you wanted to look your best. Christmas and Easter. More than Christmas, Easter was the time of year when mothers would saddle their unsuspecting children with dress clothes, hats, and other accessories.  

In addition to clothes, your hair had to look stellar. With this in mind, my two brothers and I decided to become amateur hairstylists. Our sister became the test client (and victim). The results were pretty much what you’d expect with a pair of safety scissors.  

Mothers have a spider sense when their kids are up to no good. We all gathered in the basement, not making a peep. We were way too quiet. I’m not sure who did the actual cutting, but when Mom called down to find out what we were up to, all of us boys chorused, “Nothing.” However, my sister let the cat out of the bag when she said, “They’re making me pretty!”    

Mom raced downstairs. To her horror, she saw our masterpiece firsthand. We sheared off all the hair on one part of our sister’s head, right down to the nub. I’m not sure what flew out of my Mom’s mouth that day, but I’m pretty sure she wasn’t complimenting us on our handiwork. That Easter, our sister had more bows and barrettes in her hair than usual. Mom tried her best to cover up our barber skills with little success.

As my sister walked past us at the party, I reminded her of her Easter Hairdo. We had a good laugh as she pointed to a picture on the wall. There, she lived in all her glory with her Easter family haircut. Oops. Oh well, just remember what they always say. The difference between a good haircut and a bad one is a couple of weeks. Maybe a few more, in her case!