Dad Wants to Look Like Me, or Getting a Haircut in Dhaka

Dad's hair grew longer than he'd ever had it before.  It was pretty stylish, and a good statement for a gym teacher, I thought, but he said it was too hot for the 100 plus heat index days.  So, off we went to the AC Saloon.  (I thought they might give me a "milk on ice," but no drinks were offered.  That confused me a little.)

After a about twenty minutes, Dad met Mom and me at his school where I was crawling around waiting for him.  All I could do was point and giggle.  All Mom could do was ask, "Is that how you wanted your hair cut?"  He had a very Bangladeshi haircut with bangs that reminded me of pictures I've seen of bands from the 1990's.  Of course, he doesn't look Bangladeshi, so the haircut just looked silly.  We went back to the AC Saloon.

Now Dad's head is much cooler and I don't feel so silly with my tiny amount of hair.  If he can pull it off and look so good, then I can, too!