I'll be honest. I like a little bit of facial hair. (On men... Not on me or my friends, just men!) And by a little bit, I mean I basically like goatees. I know my own momma and momma-in-law will not agree with me in any way, shape, or form, but I actually find a little bit of facial hair to be downright sexy. Just a little bit, though. Beards, however, do nothing for me. It's not that I think they are awful; it's that I just don't like them.
Because of this, The Dad wears a goatee. I'm sure that he wears the goatee because I find it sexy and not at all because he has a very real disdain for shaving. On occasion, if he doesn't have to shave (which is to say he's not going to be seeing his momma or going to work), he'll not shave for several days. So, this week, when we were snow-bound he left his razor completely untouched.
I was completely fine with this because I knew that when school started up again, he'd be shaving. And I'd get the best of both the scruffy- and smooth-faced worlds!
But, today, as we drove through town summing up the mounds and mounds and mounds and mounds of snow, The Dad came up with an idea: He's not going to shave his beard until the last mound of snow is completely gone.
Ummmm... Wha--??? Is he really suggesting that he go Grizzly Adams? 'Cause we got about 84 metric tons of snow just in our own yard!
"What a cool way for us, as a family to keep track of how long it takes for the snow to melt. Right, girls?"
Ummmm... Wha--?? Is he really suggesting that we make this a family ordeal?
From the back seat, we had two completely different reactions: Daughter 1, ever the scientist, was already creating a way for us to chart his growth and measure the melting. Daughter 2, ever the fashionista, decided she hated the idea, but really? She didn't care, "just turn up Radio Disney, Selena is singing!"
"Really? Honey, I don't really like beards. And this is a lot of snow. I'll bet you'll get pretty itchy." I tried to dissuade him.
"Nah - it'll probably keep my face warm!"
And with that, His mind was made-up. He would become hairy until Winter was definitely gone and spring had, for sure, sprung. And he was smiling about it.
"But, Honey," I pleaded, deciding to play the s-e-x card, "I won't sleep with you if you have a beard." No, no, no. I didn't really say that. I said, instead, "I really, really don't like beards. And it will take, a really, really long time for the snow to melt and that'll be a really, really long time for you to go without sleeping with me." OK - I really didn't say that last part.
He smirked. That was completely fine by him. He had found a way to not shave and he was one happy boy. All was right in his mountain-man world and there was nothing I could say to change his mind. Nothing.
Well... Wait...
As we drove by a four-story mountain of snow, I said, "Ya know, Honey? That's a really great idea about not shaving!"
"Really?" He smiled. "I thought you'd gripe and moan about it the entire time of the experiment." Not that I ever gripe and moan. I have no idea what he meant by that.
"Great idea, Honey!" I smiled at him as I touched his arm. "I think I'll do that too!"
"Ummm... do what?"
"I think I won't shave either ... ya know, just until the snow melts. It'll be like I'm a French chick: Hairy pits and legs. What a great experiment for our whole family, huh? What do you think, girls?"
But Katy Perry was telling The Daughters that they were fireworks, and they had completely tuned us out.
I noticed The Dad's grip on the wheel got a little bit tighter. His eyes narrowed just a touch. His lip quivered almost unnoticeably.
His voice squeaked just a little bit when he said, "Well, maybe we could just, umm... not get a hair cut until the snow melts. What about that deal?"
"OH, heck no, Mister! I don't like shaving either. We're sticking to our original deal!"
I'll let you know how this little experiment works out for us when the trees begin to bud!
