A SNIPPET

Once in a while, she holds up her tiny index and middle fingers closing and opening them like cutting shears before asking if she can trim my hair. When she asks, I drop everything to allow her. Then again, I’ve made a habit of doing so regardless of the request; I suppose I always will, too, although I’m sure the difficulty of her questions will run parallel with her age. With a smile like that, who wouldn’t do the same?