Josiah's first haircut without tears

Josiah and I have been going to the same barber for the past two years. The shop is located in the rundown, little town of Sha He, the same town I work in. The owners are a plump older woman who likes to talk and her husband who listens to her. When she speaks, I rarely understand much because she has a very strong Beijing accent, which adds 'r's to nearly every word. At least, my understanding has vastly improved from the first time I went there.

I chose this place because it reminded me a little of the basic 'regular guy' barbershops that I'm used to in the States. Most barbershops in China are similar to beauty salons in America with one exception--the men who work at them. For some reason the Chinese hairstyling industry has attracted the stranger elements of society into its ranks. This has become something of a subculture. The men are usually young and effeminate with colored hair, soft hands, braclets, sometimes nail polish, often face jewellry. Oddly, you don't often see these types of people in other segments of society--just at hair salons. This, coupled with the loud rock music normally played inside most salons, is why I was glad to find a simple barber shop to go to.

Haircuts are one benefit of living in China. Where I go, I pay 10 yuan ($1.25) for a haircut. This includes a meticulous haircut, scalp massage, and a hairwash. Not bad! Josiah doesn't get the massage or wash so they only charge 3 yuan ($0.35).

In the past, Josiah's haircuts were quite a chore. Even as an infant, he didn't like getting even a trim. To hear him in the barber chair, you'd think he was under severe torture. To manage giving him a haircut, I would sit in the barber chair with a barber sheet draped over me. Josiah would be sat in my lap with a sheet draped over him. Becky would get to work distracting, entertaining, and otherwise consoling her distraught son while his father held his screaming head in place so our patient barber could quickly cut his hair.

This summer I got the notion of giving him a buzz. Yep, I wanted his hair totally gone. However, I was a little concerned about the psycological effect it might have on him. So I came up with a simple idea. One evening I asked Josiah if he knew what a U.S. Marine was. While I showed him pictures from the internet, I proceded to explain that Marines were the best soldiers in the world. At each picture I showed him how each Marine had little or no hair. I asked him, "Do you want to be a Marine?" Gravely, he said, "Yes." I informed him that to look like a Marine, he needed to have all his hair cut off. He said ok.

The next morning Becky couldn't go to the shop with us and help me distract Josiah. So, I took him by myself. When we arrived, our usual lady wasn't there! Strike two. Having already travelled there, I didn't wanted to return another day, so I asked her husband if he'd do it. He agreed. After he finished with a customer he told us it was our turn. While I put away the camera I'd been playing with, Josiah walked over to the chair. When I turned around, I was shocked with the sight of my son already sitting stoically in the chair as the barber draped a sheet around him! I figured Josiah would probably begin crying once the haircut began. But he didn't! He just sat there with a serious look on his face as the barber gave him a short, sharp haircut. After seeing how good he looked, I decided not to insist on having his head totally buzzed. I just busied myself praising Josiah, complementing the barber, and taking pictures to prove to Josiah's mother that this all really happened.

Ten minutes later, we walked out the shop toward our bus as one proud father holding the hand of a very handsome boy. But still he was very quiet.

I tried to prob his little brain, "You look so sharp, Son. How are you doing?"

He just replied deeply and emphatically, "Josiah soldier, Dad. I'm a soldier."

So we walked off hand-in-hand to catch the 21 bus to show Moma...