It seems odd to think of as a haircut as a source of joy. I’m not talking wanting a different look, or someone getting their hair done for a wedding, or anything fancy.

Our story for haircuts during the pandemic looks a lot like many people’s story. Early on, we ordered a home clipper set, Andrea found some videos, and we decided to cut Jacob’s hair. She did a good try for both Jacob and I, not bad for the first time, if a little stressful with her constantly saying, “Oh crap” or “Ugh” as she worked away on my head.

The next round, I did Jacob’s while Andrea supervised. Then Andrea did mine, with less swearing by her.

Another round came, and I did my own for the most part and then Andrea fixed it up, and I did Jacob’s. Similarly for the last round. I think there have been four rounds in total, might have been five, hard to remember.

Overall? They turned out fine. Jacob’s were eminently viable, as were mine, and nobody pointed at us in public when we went outside, so we’ll take that as being as good as an endorsement.

But some time ago, I started thinking about a “pandemic” dashboard indicating how I’m doing at re-opening my life, our lives within our bubble of 3. When I asked Jacob what he wanted, a couple of things popped up. He wanted to eat in a restaurant again, which we’ve done. He wanted to go play mini-golf, although I’m not sure they were really closed that much, but he felt that was something that represented being “open” again.

And he wanted to get a real haircut. Back in June, we were just about to pull the trigger on it, and we chickened out. Partly for timing, partly for safety, we just did another round at home.

But this time? He wanted a real haircut. Truth be told, I don’t really care about it for myself. I’d be perfectly fine just continuing to do the same thing for me. Both of us have really simple cuts, so nothing terrible can happen.

Yet the difference is obvious. His crown is right, no extra hairs left on the back of his neck that I have to touch up later. The bangs that hang over the front of his head look “right”. Way better than anything Andrea or I ever accomplished.

We had made an appointment for first thing this morning, went in at 9:00 a.m., did his and mine, and made our escape. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, done in about 45 minutes.

And it did give me joy to see him “back to normal” so to speak. Sure, there’s no place to sit and wait. Sure, we had to have appointments. Sure, we had to wear masks. But it was all good.

So I’ll add it to the #MoreJoy column for the month.