I don’t even remember what it was that we were arguing over a few days ago, but Lex was mad and glaring at me, arms crossed over his chest. When we aren’t crossways, we are so close; when we fight his anger is larger than life. During this back and forth the other day, I suddenly had a flash of memory. Lex at three, maybe four, sitting on a booster seat in the barber’s chair with a black nylon drape around his shoulders. They were just getting started, and the barber was wetting Lex’s hair with a spray bottle. Lex’s eyes got wide, he sat up straight, looking at me, It’s raining in the barbershop! he whispered loudly to me, so that I’d be able to hear him.