The beard was getting out of hand.

I’d sworn that I wouldn’t trim the thing until we went back to school, back to school for good, not in some awkward, inefficient once-a-week/elearning hybrid. Real school.

When I put on a mask, it looked absolutely horrible.

And it left this awful wrinkle in the beard, a little curl that forced the lower part of the beard to shoot straight out, away from my face like a cowlick from hell.

So there was only one thing to do: let L do what she’s been begging to do for some time now. “When you trim it, let’s put the mask on and the cut around it.

The results, after the initial trim, weren’t that promising. I went in and cleaned it up but never got a real “after” picture.

But she enjoyed doing it, and the Boy enjoyed photographing the adventure.