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People love this barber for his sweet approach to cutting a child with Down syndrome's hair

The kiddo loves the "start and stop" game.

via TheBest1Period/TikTok

Vernon Jackson with his buddy Ellison at the Noble Barber and Beauty salon in Cincinnati, Ohio.

It’s a godsend for parents when they can take their kids who have specific needs somewhere they won’t be judged. Parenting a child with disabilities or neurodivergence is hard enough without dealing with the stares, judgment and misunderstandings that can happen in public places.

Haircuts can be especially stressful for children with sensory issues and their parents.

Vernon Jackson, barber and owner of Noble Barber and Beauty salon in Cincinnati, Ohio, understands these families' unique needs. So he opens up his shop one day a month for what he calls "The Gifted Event,” where he welcomes them for a free haircut.

The most common medical conditions he sees are autism, Down syndrome and spina bifida.

Jackson told Today there are a few things that these children worry about in the barber’s chair. Specifically, many don’t like the sound of the clippers and the feeling of hair falling on their skin. “One child told me it feels like needles,” he told Today.

The barber’s sweet approach while giving a haircut to Ellison, a child with Down syndrome, went viral on TikTok, earning over 3 million views. It’s touching because Ellison is all smiles and loves having some control over the stressful situation by telling Jackson when to “stop” and “start” with the clippers.

The viral video shows what can happen when a barber has the time to focus on the child as an individual and create an atmosphere where they are comfortable.

“Every child is different and I need to be present with them and meet them in the moment,” Jackson told Today. For Julie Eubanks, Ellison’s mother, who took the heartwarming video, being able to have Jackson cut his hair is a huge relief.

"I'm always in the state of anticipating the worst because you never know with these types of situations with Ellison, or with any kid with special needs, they can turn with a blink of the eye," Eubanks told WLWT. "I was trying to enjoy it and record and peaking my head out of the side of my phone to be like, 'Is this really going on?'"

The commenters on TikTok thought the video was adorable.

"Thank you for having such a kind soul with these precious children that just need a little extra attention in a different way! This is awesome," Jackie Griggs wrote. "Hard to tell who had more fun here. This is great!" Carrie Deal added.

Jackson has set up a GoFundMe where people can donate free haircuts to children with disabilities and he’s received over $17,000 in donations.

“As a barber, I saw the need for a place where children with disabilities are supported during a haircut and an environment where parents or caregivers don't have to explain their child's behavior or apologize for something they may do or say,” Jackson wrote on the GoFundMe page.

It’s incredible that Jackson sets aside time every month so that his business can focus on those who need a little extra love and attention. It’s a beautiful gift to these children and their parents and a wonderful example to share with the rest of the business community.

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special needs
Family

How do you give a child struggling with autism more stability? Call in the grandparents.

Who better than family to make sure you and your child with autism are getting every service available?

In 2009, the CDC estimated that 1 in 110 children in the U.S. had autism spectrum disorders.

That was an increase from 1 in 150 just two years prior, and the number keeps increasing. But for families of children with autism, the reality is much more nuanced than those numbers can portray.

Parents of kids with autism tend to struggle with things that many of us cannot understand. They have less time to socialize and little time to do research on services available to their kids. Those services can be quite expensive, too. And sadly, some parents may even find themselves shunned by family and friends who don't quite understand autism. But of course, these parents are also blessed with unique and vibrant children — as with most of parenting, the experience is a mixed bag.

Image via iStock.

But now there's an exciting approach for families of kids with autism. Enter: grandparents.

Sociologist Eva Kahana, a professor at Case Western Reserve University, conducted a literature review of dozens of studies about parenting, special needs kids, and familial relationships. She suggests grandparents are ideal hangout buddies for children, especially those diagnosed with autism.

She found that grandparents can help parents raise autistic children who are better adapted because grandparents often build a bridge to understanding autism for everyone in the family. And because grandma and grandpa are often able to act as neutral "spokespeople" between the family of a child with autism and their extended family or the outside world. Grandparents often end up serving as surrogates, educating people and dispelling any misguided perceptions about autism, including fear and discomfort.

Most grandparents have already raised children, so they may be more aware than parents if their grandchild is showing signs of developing autism.

Most grandparents are extremely emotionally invested in their grandchildren, often second only to parents, so they are more likely to notice and push for an early diagnosis and treatment plan, too.

Image via iStock.

Also, grandparents typically have more time for caretaking and special attention.

That means they are able to do research on after-school programs and other services offered to children with autism that parents may not know about.

“Parents often accept limited services offered to the child at their local public schools, unaware of additional services that schools are required by law to provide to a child with a disability,” Kahana says.

Then there's the issue of money — there's something called a "special needs trust" that grandparents can open for a grandchild who has autism. The trust ensures that the child's future public benefits are never put at risk.

And who better to watch your kids?

Kahana found that children who struggle with autism are less likely to become agitated when grandma or grandpa babysit, as opposed to a babysitter they don't know at all. (Not to mention the added benefit of not having to pay them for their services — that frees up a lot of money parents can spend to improve the quality of life of their children!)

Image via iStock.

The best part is that these are just findings from one article dealing specifically with autism.

Other studies have shown lots of added benefits for children who spend time with their grandparents.

Grandmas and grandpas rule. They're there to spoil you, to say "yes" when your parents say "no," and to send you a lot of unconditional love. But while the bonds between kids and their grandparents are beautiful, they're also functional: They could drastically improve life for kids with autism and other special needs all over the world.

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Doctors focused on what he couldn’t do. Blake showed them what he could.

Inclusivity is essential. And delicious!

True
A&E Born This Way

When Blake Pyron was born in 1996, there was almost no indication that he had Down syndrome.

He was beautiful, gurgly, and perfect, according to his mom — everything a newborn baby should be. But, there was one thing that gave the nurses pause: Blake’s big toe and his second toe were a little too wide. It's a symptom of Down syndrome, something 25-year-old Mary Ann and her 27-year-old husband never considered a possibility.

Suddenly their beautiful son, who had a world of possibilities before him a few days before, was being told exclusively about his limitations.

Blake and his mom, Mary Ann. All images via Blake's Snow Shack, used with permission.

Today, there's a wealth of information that can help parents navigate raising a child with Down syndrome. That wasn't the case in 1996.

At that time, there weren't blogs or online networks for parents of children with Down syndrome. When Mary Ann went to the local bookstore, she found a tiny section filled with negative, depressing stories. Doctors and nurses kept telling her about all the challenges she'd face raising Blake along with all the things he'd never do — like go to school or hold a job.

There's nothing wrong with a life that doesn't include those things, but Mary Ann didn't want to make assumptions about what Blake's life could and could not include.

"When Blake was two weeks old, I made a promise to him that he would never be limited," Mary Ann told Upworthy. "I sat in a mall and told him 'I will never keep you from the world.'"

She kept that promise to Blake all through school.

Thanks to the support of his parents and his community, Blake had a teenage experience just like everyone else's — football, prom, a part-time job at a local BBQ joint.

Blake and his girlfriend, ready for prom.

Blake is mostly nonverbal and prefers to communicate in other ways like gestures and writing. According to Mary Ann, he's never had a problem sharing how he feels, what he needs, or what he wants. As for what he wants, that's simple. He wants to work.

But shortly after graduation, Blake found out the restaurant he worked at was closing for good.

It got him and his family thinking: Maybe it was time to consider something else, like for Blake to open his own business.

For a few months they brainstormed ideas. They traveled to Albuquerque to meet Tim Harris — of the world-famous Tim's Place restaurant — who also has Down syndrome. Everything was telling them to take the leap and start a business, so they did.

Over the next year, the Pyron family worked hard to develop a business plan for Blake.

They bought a concession trailer and ice machines, they perfected snow cone recipes, they found the perfect location. The city was supportive but didn't give them any shortcuts to success. Eventually Blake became Sanger's youngest business owner — and Texas' first with Down syndrome.

After a few sneak peek weekends, Blake’s Snow Shack officially opened for business on May 7 — Mother’s Day.

Along with representatives from the Sanger Chamber of Commerce, Blake cuts the ribbon on opening day.

It was an instant and undeniable hit.


Huge crowds of people waited in the heat for their first taste of a snow cone from Blake's Snow Shack.

From 3 p.m. until 9 p.m. Tuesday through Saturday, Blake is in the Snow Shack trailer serving up cool sweet treats from the 32-flavor menu. There are nine people on his staff and a huge crew of volunteers available for support whenever he needs it.


Blake and a member of his staff wait for crowds on a hot day at the Snow Shack.

Blake's involved in all the day-to-day operations — from managing employees to making snow cones to marketing and promotions.


Blake's shirt makes it clear who's in charge.

"When it comes down to it," says Mary Ann, "Down syndrome is such a small part of who Blake is. He's a son, he's a brother, he's a friend, he's a boyfriend, he's a business owner. He was prom king, citizen of the year, he was football captain. Now he's Sanger's youngest business owner."

As for the community uniting behind Blake, she's grateful for every minute of it. "The support that we’ve received has been priceless. Everything Blake is a community effort."


Some of the enthusiastic members of Team Blake.

Blake's Snow Shack is such a runaway success, he's already thinking of what's next.

Blake purchased a second trailer so the Snow Shack can go on location to do events, like cheering on Ty Dillon at NASCAR races, where his company logo is featured on the #95 car. There's talk of further expansion — even franchises — where people with special needs or groups supporting folks with developmental challenges can be a part of building their own business.


A very excited customer.

In the meantime, special needs kids and their families are showing up at the Snow Shack all the time for a chance to meet Blake.

Blake and a young fan.

His success as Sanger's youngest business owner is a reminder that people get to set their own limits, and they alone decide what they can and cannot do.

Every person with Down syndrome is different, and not all of them will want to — or be able to — bust barriers in the same way Blake does. That's OK. Mary Ann is more interested in how Blake's story helps other moms of kids with developmental challenges stay positive and open-minded.

"My message to moms everywhere is not to allow society’s expectations to be your child's reality. Moms can get overwhelmed by reading blogs and telling you that your child can't do anything, and they'll really never be given the change to do anything. They're wrong. Do not limit your child. Believe in your child. The rest comes together with faith and hard work."
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5 things the mom of the kid having a tantrum wants you to know.

It was 10:15 on a Wednesday morning, and I was standing outside a coffee shop, holding back tears.

10 minutes earlier, I'd walked into the coffee shop with my 8-year-old son. We were greeted by the anxious looks of a half-dozen people quietly working on their laptops, wondering if my son was going to disturb their peace. They were right to worry.

I had pulled my son out of school three months before; it would be another year before we got his autism diagnosis, but it was already clear that his combination of anxiety, sensitivity, and giftedness made public school a poor fit. That day, we were on our way to the gym class that was part of our new homeschooling schedule. A pre-class snack was part of the routine.

But that day, the routine was off. My son didn’t want to leave the house; then he didn’t want to get out of the car. I parked directly in front of the coffee shop, hoping to lure him out with a snack – but as soon as he got to the counter, he fixated on a brownie in the display case.

All photos via iStock.

"I want a brownie, please," he told the barista.

I overruled him: "You can get a healthy snack."

"I want a brownie!" This time, his request came out as a shouted demand.

All eyes were on us, glaring over the tops of their computers.

"You can have a muffin and some milk or nothing," I told him.

"I WANT A BROWNIE!!!"

Did I hear a whispered "tsk" from one of the café’s patrons, or was I imagining things? No time to check.

"We’re going," I said firmly, taking my son by the hand. As I pulled him away from the counter, he grabbed onto the legs of a table occupied by a couple of women. I pried his fingers off, one a time, and dragged him across the floor as he screamed.

By the time I got him to the sidewalk, with the café door shut behind me, he was in tears. I held mine back, pushing aside the mortification of yet another public meltdown so that I could focus on calming my son.

It’s a scene I’ve lived through over and over again, as parents of special needs kids often do.

I’ve experienced the glares, the muttering, the unasked-for advice: They’re all part of raising a child with an invisible disability.

Most of the time, I don’t think of my son’s autism as a disability; it’s inseparable from what makes him an extraordinary, delightful, and fascinating little person. But when all eyes are on us during a public tantrum, I feel like he’s just as excluded as a wheelchair user confronting a flight of stairs.

Standing outside the coffee shop, holding back my tears, here’s what I wish those coffee shop denizens had known.

1. Yes, I’d like your help.

If you’re scared that I’ll be offended, don’t be — and I won’t ask you to take over the tantrum management. But I would have welcomed someone getting up from their laptop to open the door while I dragged my son out, and I dream about someone offering to pack up our books on the not-infrequent occasions when I have to pack up with one hand and hold a raging child with the other.

I would have welcomed someone getting up from their laptop to open the door while I dragged my son out.

2. But not your advice.

One of the reasons I drag my son away from public meltdowns is because all too often, my fellow parents have taken those meltdowns as an invitation to offer their own parenting advice. It’s like a knife in my heart when someone "kindly" tells me I just need to set firmer limits — after I’ve spent hours and hours reading up on child psychology, working with child therapists, and setting up visual schedules and reward charts.

3. Talking to my son will make things worse.

Another reason for my quick escape? Getting my son out of the path of would-be saviors. When he’s melting down in public, I say an inner prayer: "Please, please, don’t let any of these people talk to my kid right now." When he’s having a tantrum, input from anyone — especially strangers — just increases his anxiety and distress.

4. Please don't judge me.

What goes on inside your head is up to you. But the staring, the head shaking, the under-the-breath muttering: I see it all. Most days, I see it on Facebook — all those "what today’s parents get wrong" — before we even leave the house. I already feel all the pain and compassion and fear that comes with raising a child who has acute challenges filtering out the noise of the world and managing his own emotions; I am trying to let go of the shame that can go with it. When I see and hear people judging me for my parenting "failures," it makes that a lot harder.

The staring, the head shaking, the under-the-breath muttering: I see it all.

5. A smile would mean the world.

I understand that you may not be able to offer help or may feel uncomfortable getting embroiled in our drama. But a sympathetic smile goes a long way. Nothing feels more lonely than the moment when my son melts down in public; a smile that says, "Gosh, that looks really challenging, and I see you’re doing the best you can" is a lifeline.

The day of Browniegate, I finally got something even better than a smile.

Once we made it to the sidewalk, I managed to calm my son down enough to get him to a nearby park: Sometimes exercise can help him get out of an emotional tailspin. When we got to the park, however, he was overwhelmed by the crowd of kids, and he wanted to flee; he suggested that he could get his exercise by walking back to the coffee shop instead so that he could get half a brownie.

When we got back to the coffee shop, I told him to wait outside because it was too embarrassing to be seen buying a brownie after our earlier drama. But my son wanted to go in and apologize. He asked for his brownie and politely told the barista, "I’m sorry for my behavior earlier."

"That was very nice," I said, to reinforce his turnaround. "You did a good job."

The barista looked at me and said quietly, "You did a good job, too."

That was when I cried.

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