"I don't wanna be six!" You can't stop the tears, even though you feel stupid for crying. A Mickey Mouse shirt? You can't be stuck as a first grader again!
The barber frowns. "Well, you did choose the haircut. I can trim you a little more, but once the choice is made, you have to wait until you are ready for another haircut. Are you sure you don't want to be six? It's a good age. Just getting out on your own in school, potty training behind you, T-ball...?"
"No! Don't wanna be six!" You fold your arms, face twisted in a pout. You know you are starting to act like the little boy you look like, and can't help it.
"OK, just a second. I can still work in a quick trim. But then you'll have to wait a month or so for your hair to grow out enough for another cutting." He stoops over you and snips at your already close-cropped hair.
What? BABY!? When the barber said trim you a little more, he meant make you younger! you pull away from him, but it's already too late. The Mickey Mouse shirt is suddenly too big as you shrink even more. The jeans fall around your stubby legs, and you trip and fall on the floor. Another snap of the barber's fingers turn your clothes to a Tigger shirt and Pampers. You are two years old!
You feel the tears start up again, and cram your thumb in your mouth as the Barber picks you up and hands you to a smiling young woman. She holds you close, and you hear her say - "I guess little Mikey didn't like his first haircut. Well, maybe I'll let it grow out long."
The Barber grins at you. "Enjoy potty trianing!"