Lice seemed to be the bane of Lip’s existence.

As soon as you got the letter home about a lice outbreak from Freddie’s nursery, the fourth this month, he felt itchy all over.

You all sat there like monkeys, picking each other’s hair, parting the strands and searching for something that ultimately wasn’t there, but it didn’t matter. It was in his head now, at the forefront of his mind, and he wasn’t going to be able to sleep while he was thinking about the pointless little bugs.

So he tried his best to be quiet as he slipped from your shared bed at around two in the morning, shuffling off to the bathroom with one sole intent. The hair had to go.

The buzz of the shaver seemed so invasive, so loud as he stood there in the lamplight, squinting into the mirror with tired, sleepy eyes, until all he had left was a sink full of dirty blonde strands and a sleepy grin as he ran his calloused hand over his new cropped hair. Oh, it might have been an impulsive decision, but it was the right one.

It was definitely worth it to see the confusion in your sleepy face as he clambered back into bed, your hand reaching to find the back of his head, how you normally love to sleep, only to realise that there were no more luscious locks to tangle your fingers into.

Only smooth, fuzzy hair and a huff of warm breath into your face as a quiet, endeared laugh left his lips at your dumbfounded whine.

“You like it, baby?... No?.. Oh, you’re just being stubborn, look at me… This is so much easier to manage..”

He looks rough, he looks rugged, and he looks like the kid you fell in love with. But Freddie is going to flip when he realises he can no longer torture his dad by trapping his flyaways in his little sweaty fists.