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Mother in hospital 2 part. by reál

At 13, my grandfather was taking care of me and my younger brother, about a week while Masha's mother was in the hospital. At that time we experienced a drastic transformation of hair, with about 8-9 inch hair on our head leaving 1/100 inch of hair in the perimeter of the head and the top of the head reaching a length of about 1/4 inch. I didn't plan to visit the barbershop for at least 1 year. We went to the barbershop to buy new clothes. The jeans were not to our grandfather's taste, so he bought us gray short pants that were knee-length gray knee-lengths. That it is practical, if the warm knee socks can be pulled to the ankles and if the winter is pulled up to our knees, we bought a gray jacket and shirt tie for our pants, We got black shoes that had to shine every night.
After the mother's return from the hospital, the stubble of hair covered the white skin on our head and gradually the hair grew. The grandfather traveled back home and we put aside his gray uniform and replaced it with his old jeans and sweater ..... a week later the grandfather unexpectedly appeared in the door of our house. Then they talked to our mother for a long time in the kitchen. Better to say, my grandfather was talking, Mom could hardly hear any talking. When the grandfather traveled again and the mother told us that the grandfather will move to us permanently in a short time and help the mother with our upbringing, because she spends a lot of time at work and does not have much time left for her upbringing.
A few days ago, our grandfather had been with us in a small room. New rules began: But the worst thing was wearing his prescribed clothing. To warn that we will not obey hung in the hallway to a visible place a leather belt.
Once at dinner I could not object that my mother's brother lives in our town, who also has 2 sons and they don't have to wear garbage uniforms but dress like other young boys. My grandfather did not answer my words, he did not hear me.
I didn't even realize that it would be four weeks since my mom was going to the hospital when someone rang on Saturday morning. When I saw both brothers come in the same gray uniforms that I and my brother had to walk. The older one, Alex is 16 and the younger Ben is my age.
Okay guys, we're all here so we can go. The grandfather was the leader of our group and we shared experiences as the grandfather began to educate us as if we were his sons and grew up in 1950. We were so impressed with the conversation that we didn't even realize where our grandfather was leading us. When I saw a board of the ancient barbershop DAXON. I was right, but it was the destination of our journey.
In the barber's chair sat an older gray man. The grandfather showed us the waiting chairs to sit down. I was pleased to see a drastic transformation of my cousins, and then I would go shopping with my grandfather. As we settled, the cousins were all red from shame, at that time the grandfather announced in a stern voice that you would go in order from oldest to youngest! Me too? I asked. You are no exception, of course you are. When the other barber called, please, and my grandfather dragged Alex into the barber's chair, I sat on the needles. After all, my hair has grown about 1/2 inch and I'm here again. When asked how his grandfather would be today, he said vigorously to the barber: High and firm hips and back # 0000 and top # 3,75. I saw Alex in the mirror, not understanding what they were giving away. It was about the same view I had in the past. I wanted to enjoy the transformation of Alex and watched carefully as the barber lowered his head and the electric scissors rise and rise to the top of the head, and when he threw the hair about 10 inches long on his head, the first white furrow appeared. As the barber cut his hair, I saw more white skin of Alex's head. Alex sat in his chair a moment ago with beautiful long hair, and now a boy with a tiny head and protruding ears jumps from him. For another word, I expected Ben to pick up, knowing he's 2-3 months older than me. Well, he whispered to me, you go first. I obeyed. With me the barber no longer had as many robots as last time, but the tiny hair got behind my shirt and incredibly irritated me on my back. When I looked in the mirror I saw Ben saying goodbye to his hair and Alex was still looking for them on his head. When I was ready to finish I realized that I too had a larger head area white and only at the top my hair was a little longer than the last haircut. Ben, with tears in his eyes, went to the barbers' chair and I sat down so Alex could see my hips and back of my head. He knew it better than he would look in the mirror. The last one of us was the old father's haircut. My cousins told us that our grandfather took us here to show us what we looked like with a military hairstyle and that we would grow long hair again. While all five barbers cut us, the barbers began to fill with older men, the old father praised, because today it should be seen that parents or grandparents give boys a boy's hair.
When the grandfather paid for our hairstyles, he called us to the bar and said to the barber: Daxon these are my grandchildren, I would like you to become their barber: The barber smiled, he would be pleased and introduced us to our new barber and then we they didn't know it would be every 4 weeks for several years.
On Monday at school, I was again the center of attention and I began to get used to the nickname Shorn Sheep. With our best classmate Gorg, our military hairstyles brought us even closer, and his father agreed to go to Daxon at 4 week intervals

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