Saturday, May 28, 2005

"Why?!" he lamented

Oh, the shock! Oh, the scandal! Oh, the uproar in our home last night!

One of the littles took one look at his father and practically wept, "Why?! Why?!" The older boys warned their sister, "Don't cry. Be strong."

It wasn't as if the events of the evening came without warning. Earlier that day, the situation had been the cause of heated debate. Some were on my side. Others bitterly opposed me.

When my husband came home, I presented my case to him and he agreed, reluctantly, to go along. "But I can't do it," he said. "You do it."

"I've never done such a thing before," I protested.

While some might argue that the deed should have been done privately, we did it in the living room, right in front of the three older boys. We even took pictures. ("Evidence of the crime," I thought I heard someone mutter.)

Now it is morning. My husband had to get up earlier and face the aftermath of last night. The mess, of course, is long cleaned up. But the results of our actions --- my actions --- remain.

My husband's formerly semi-full beard is now a goatee.


  1. Not a goatee, most likely. A 'Van Dyke'. A goatee has no mustache. What people refer to as a 'goatee' is a Van Dyke most of the time.

    Like people calling Chinos "Khakis." Khaki is a color, people, not a pants style.

    So, our beards are Van Dykes and our pants are Chinos. Are we clear on this? Good.

    Now, I, on the other hand, have a 'reverse Van Dyke.' And I refuse to wear pants at all most of the time.

    The kids do cry, of course.