This poem was inspired by some real-life hair-raising moments in my family. When my daughter was about six years old, she decided, without warning, to cut her own hair one morning before school. Let’s just say the results were… not great. I had to do a quick fix before we dashed out the door. Then, years later, when she was a teenager, she offered to cut her older brother’s hair. That one didn’t go so well either. And, once again, I was the emergency barber. Fortunately, she never tried to cut her parents hair or give the pets a trim. But these memories made me think: what if a kid just couldn’t stop giving haircuts? This is…

My Sister Found Some Scissors

My sister found some scissors.

She thought it was exciting,

I even let her cut mine.

She tried to be a barber.

— Kenn Nesbitt