They look like wild boys now. Every couple of days I suggest a haircut. “You look hot! Mom could cut your hair, then you would feel cooler.”
“No no no! It gonna hurt.”
I don’t know why the perception of haircut pain. Every few months for a couple of years I’ve given them haircuts so I’ve had a lot of practice. To this date I’ve never poked or pinched either of them with the scissors. Likely they just don’t want to be bothered with sitting still.
Last night I saw the wild and wooly boys heading diagonally across the front yard into the twilight. They were carrying a 5-gallon bucket between them. It was almost as tall as they were. “Where are they going with that?” I asked their father who was watching from the porch as they receded into the dusk.
“They’re going to catch fireflies.”