It’s Called “Permanent” For A Reason
Unbeknownst to me, No. 3 son decided not only to get a moustache, but a goatee as well.
Pretty proud he was too, until he studied my face a little more.
“Caleb (that would be No. 1 son) did it!”
“It” was hand-drawn. With a permanent marker. On a five-year-old. Goatee and a moustache complete with swirls – lots and lots of swirls. So I march No. 3 with me and we go find No. 1 and I start the parental inquisition.
“What were you thinking?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s a permanent marker!”
“I didn’t know.”
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And I’m just about to break out in laughter when the Little Black Dress sees it and the first thing she asks is if it’s permanent and I say “yes” and she gives me that “What are YOU going to do about it look” and suddenly things aren’t quite as funny anymore and I realize I’d better do something really, really quick because No. 3 son suddenly asks “does this mean I’m not me anymore?” and he’s starting to get a little paranoid and the Little Black Dress is definitely not smiling.
Wow, that was a long sentence.
So off to the sink we go and we scrub and scrub and thank God it comes off – there must be some time-release formula in it.
And after looking in the mirror No. 3 exclaims “I’m me again.”
And the Little Black Dress smiles.
So the earth is back on its axis.
For now.