Azzurra sat cross-legged on the bed, Cesario perched in front of her as she carefully ran the comb through his soft hair. With gentle fingers, she twisted it up into a small man bun and secured it.

“There. All done,” she announced.

The toddler immediately scrambled off the bed, darting toward the mirror. Tilting his head from side to side, he examined himself with exaggerated seriousness.

The last time his hair had been this length, it had been too short to style. Now it sat ...