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For some strange reason I have yet to figure out, I don't like to have the boys get their hair cut. I know. Weird. Usually we cut it really short, and then I let it grow until it gets unruly, and then let it grow some more. And then it goes past that awkward "growing out" phase, and then I start to wonder what we should do with it. And, as I wonder, it continues to grow.
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I start thinking about Samson, and wondering what incredible strength these boys will lose if we cut their hair.
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And then I realize that the boys don't have strength in their hair.
I am the one who gets a super power from it.
The power to drive their father crazy. (Here is where I begin to rub my hands together and laugh an evil laugh.)
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