I stared at my iPhone for a moment, wondering, “Why has a repairman just answered my home phone?” Luckily, I recovered quickly and greeted my son.

Adolescence has had more side effects on my oldest than just a lowering of the voice. There’s also the tonsurephobia. While not strictly pathological, Bubba’s aversion to getting his hair cut arrived swiftly and with great force about six months ago. No amount of coaxing nor any denomination of bribe could get him into Wes’ barber’s chair this summer.

This was disheartening because for many years, getting his hair cut was no more complicated than telling the lady at SuperFantasticCuts which guard to put on the clippers (#2 for him #1.5 for me). I blame lacrosse, but that’s an issue for another post.

But after months of struggle, conflict, and not being able to look Bubba in the eyes, I think I have solved the haircut issue. Brilliantly.

I usually get my own hair cut at the local McBarber on the way home from work. Last time I stopped in for a trim, I was bummed to find the place had gone bust. Within weeks, the generic clipper factory was replaced by something called Finley’s Barber Shop.

Are retro, man-spa barber shops a trend in your town? They certainly are in Austin. And Finley’s is a prime example of the species.

I showed Bubba the place, suggested we try it out. To my surprise, he agreed instantly.

I was worried that the vibe and the stylists might be too old-school for my uber-cool 8th grader, but as soon as we hit the door, he seemed right at home. While the decor was retro, with clubby colors and leather chairs, the stylists were young, and mostly female.

While Bubba was whisked off to get his new “do,” I was escorted to the lounge where I settled into a leather recliner, was handed the remote to a large flat screen and offered a complimentary and very cold Miller Lite. Okay, do I need to repeat myself? He got a haircut while I drank beer and watched the PGA. Frankly, I didn’t really care if he hated the place, or emerged with an emerald green mohawk, we were coming back.

Better still, when he was all done, the kid looked liked a million bucks and his first words were: “I love this place. I wish my hair grew faster.” What did he love? The shampoo was “amazing,” the hot towel treatment “smelled awesome,” and his stylist was “totally cool.” He effused all the way home. Adolescent boys don’t effuse much, in case you don’t have one, and when they do, it’s rarely on the subject of grooming. I couldn’t wait to get him home to his mother. My household approval ratings were sure to skyrocket.

The tab was about twice what you might expect to pay at a big box haircuttery, but not all that much more than you get hit for in specialty kid spot. I felt like the final cost of around $30 was a value. Then I learned that they have a Father Sunday — when fathers and sons that come in together get 20% off. Haircuts have gone from being a quarrelsome chore to being a father/son tradition.

A home run? A hole-in-one? Pick your manly sports metaphor and apply it to Finley’s. I hope that you and your teen boy have something similar near you.