Since we’ve been in California it has been an up and down saga trying to find a consistent barbershop. Finally, a friend made a recommendation that worked out really well. The barbershop is in a decent part of town, doesn’t smell like a mix of mild sauce and weed, nobody is peddling in fenced goods from the freights, extra ratchet music with more curse words than actual lyrics isn’t blaring through the speakers and the barber punctually keeps his appointments and doesn’t eat a four-piece wing while cutting hair. (Disclaimer, if you are not from Chicago and don’t understand what I just described, that’s cool but don’t judge my city because they conduct business a tad bit different than yours.) Another bonus to the barbershop is that my son gets exposure to black men. We live in an area of the city that is heavily Latino and outside of church, my son does not get exposure to a lot of black men. This unlike, when we lived in Chicago we lived in a predominately black community. So, it’s safe to say that this place is our newly adopted barbershop.
On our first visit to the shop my son took a quick observation of the shop and whispered to me “Mom you can find a husband here.” I was so embarrassed and looked around to make sure that no one heard him. The second time he made some comments that escape my memory however, it was still something along the lines of aye girl if you gonna find a man the time is now. In an effort to lessen the pressure and guilt I was feeling from being borderline pimped out by my own son, so I sent my mom on haircut duty. That only lasted a few weeks because she went back to school and had classes on Saturday.
Recently, the heat has been on and again but this time he is getting more specific. He tells me as I sit three feet away from his barber that I should date him. Now, his barber is attractive. I give them that much. But what he realizes there will be no mixing of business and pleasure in this household. So, as we leave the shop I tell him that I think his barber is married and he needs to drop this bright idea of his. He tells me “No he’s not.” I say, “How do you know”? He laughs, and I tell him that he doesn’t know that but he was going to ask him next time. The next appointment rolls around and I notice my son is being a little more chatty than usual and trying to insert his young self into adult conversation. He smiles at me which isn’t abnormal but I just mouthed “Be quiet” to ward off slick matchmaker tendencies that might have been stirred up. When we got home later that day I was telling my mom and sisters about it and I asked him what he and the barber we’re talking about while he was in the chair. He said, “I ask *James if he was gonna put a ring on it.” See, I can’t with him.
Two weeks after that we were walking to the car from the barbershop and my son says, “Mom, it’s kind of weird to have my dad cut my hair”, I looked taken aback and he laughed. I laughed and then I told him to shut up and get in the car. Most people go to the barbershop for just a haircut but my kid is more concerned about getting me hooked up with somebody, anybody that will give him the little sister he has been harassing me about. Little does he know I’m fine with just him, plus I don’t want to go looking for a new barbershop.
I mean we are from Chicago but we are not related to Bishop Magic Don Juan, so I need this little mister to slow up with his pimp gain and let Jesus take the wheel.
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