Too Many Children's Haircuts

     Page Thirty-Five.
     One day in about '90 or '91, I had hair appointments all day long. Actually, I only had two stops but at each house I had multiple clients. One home was here in Cleveland Heights, the other was in a suburb farther east, Gates Mills. The nearby stop was first. There, I cut the oldest son: age twelve, the middle son: ten, and the youngest son: eight. In Gates Mills, I cut the oldest son: age six, son number two: four, the next son: three and the baby: eighteen months. That was it for that day. I don't mind kids, really I don't. But until the day I die, I'll never, ever forget that experience. I was so exhausted by the time I got home, I thought I would drop dead. The people who work in those salons that specialize in children should be canonized. Maybe they're masochists?