You let your mommy carry you back out to the car and get you buckled in your car seat. "It's OK, Mikey. You can have nice long hair if you want." Then she gives you a kiss on the head and drives the two of you home. As you sit there, feeling confused, you realize that long hair means no barber shop, and no chance to get yourself back to your age. And you sure did not want to be... you frown, feeling even more confused. Be what? You feel warm wetness in your diaper, followed by a thicker warmth. You do not like having a messy diaper. You squirm in your seat, and when you finally get to the apartment complex that is home, your mommy wrinkles her nose. "Someone needs a change."
And so starts your life as a toddler. It is strange at first, because you remember being older. But as the days turn into weeks, you get quite used to being fed, being changed, waddling round and exploring things. The whole world looks so strange and new, even though most of it is familiar at the same time. You find delight in simple toys, picture books, empty boxes. Your mommy keeps working with you to use a potty chair, and after a few false starts, you find that you can control yourself again. You still wet yourself at night, but you can go potty like a big boy. More weeks pass, and your hair gets longer. Your mommy trims it with scissors and seems happy with it. You are walking very well now, and mommy puts you in pullups. Then one day she takes you to a place with other kids your age. A day care center. She seems very sad, and tells you she has to work. But you like being with the other kids, and being a little on your own again. You love day care, and as time passes you make friends and relearn things. More time passes, and your hair gets thick and full, kept shoulder-length by your mommy's scissors. You graduate to little boy briefs, with just a plastic sheet on your bed for the bedwetting that still remains. Day care becomes preschool, and then kindergarten. Then the day comes when mommy says "You start first grade tomorrow. We are going to go see a barber. You can have it any way you want it, but it would be nice for you to have it at least trimmed by a real barber."
You are a bit startled as memories suddenly return. You look in the mirror and see the 6 year-old boy you became in the barber shop, except with much longer hair. This time it is a very familiar face, and the grownup you used to be seems odd and unfamiliar. And an hour later, you are not surprised at all when mommy pulls up outside the same barber shop. She takes you inside. "Let him have it any way he wants it. I'll run across the street and grab some coffee, and be right back."
The barber hefts you up in the chair and grins. "Well, Mikey. It's been four years. About time you got a trim. Or perhaps something a bit more drastic? What would you like? I can trim you a bit and keeps things as they are, or make you older, or younger again. You can be someone else, the person you were, or even an animal."