When my niece was four I gave her a haircut to correct the Florence Hendersonesque mullet my sister had inflicted upon her. She wanted long hair, but we explained to her that we were just going to even it out and she seemed fine with that.
She was really quiet during the whole haircut, and intent on watching the hair fall. I got done and held her up to the mirror but she still didn’t say much. I finished cleaning up, but when I walked out into the hallway, she was just standing there completely still, staring at the floor.
I said, “Baby, what’s wrong, don’t you like your hair?”
She didn’t respond for a minute then she shrugged, did a huge sigh and said, very matter of factly, “Oh gosh. I look like a man.”