Sons need to know that real men cry

It was a crying fest at school, my 9-year-old son explained to me while the hair clippers buzzed — our father-son ritual since he was 1 year old.

Everybody was crying, he continued, ". . .all the girls, even my teacher."

"They were passing out Kleenex . . ."

It was the class' response to sad news: the departure of a little boy who was moving to Alaska, or, in their third-grade minds, to the other side of the world. So on his last day of school, one by one, the girls dissolved into tears upon saying farewell.

One of the boys started crying too. Then another boy, seeing his male classmate's tears, scolded, " 'Man up!' "

"But I didn't cry," my son said …