My husband wears a beard. But he himself rarely equates them, and most often I, with a whisper: "It looks like frost again!"I put him on a chair, grab the scissors and chest, and align the vegetation with him.
One day, I decided to watch how long he would grow before he took his own scissors. I waited a long time...until one evening he asked with outrage:
So, how long will I be craving?
So the haircut.
I am growing them for you. I used to like to make your cheeks...
Love is a strange thing, but it is.