I recently bought a set of electric hair clippers with attachments from a store known for its low-price (but also low-quality) merchandise. I wanted to try them on Anthony so that my wife would not always have to be the one to cut his hair. I know that, if worst comes to worst, Anthony will not complain about a bad haircut.

Well. . . the clippers died about ten minutes in to the haircut. What to do now? Try the scissors. How hard can it be? Oh--that cut was a lot closer to the scalp than I anticipated. Oh--that one was too. And. . . the next one was as well. Hmmm. Buzz cut it is.

Since the clippers were unavailable, I used the trimmer attachment on my electric razor to finish the task.

No, Anthony hasn't shown displeasure at his Buddhist monk look. That is one of the few positives about autism. I wasn't sure if he even noticed at first; he was still making his goofy faces in the mirror. Shortly thereafter, though, I saw him momentarily intrigued by the new sensation as he patted his head.

I am giving just the slightest consideration to sticking with this look. My wife and I have both separately been surprised, however, at seeing a stranger in the shadows of a newly-darkened room after the blinds have been closed yet again.