Kiss the Beard
I forgot to shave over a long weekend a while back, and then forgot again for another day or two, so at that point it officially became a beard. I meant to shave the beard off the weekend before last, and then again this past weekend and forgot both times, so now it’s a biggish beard and Mama Dog will no doubt soon be casting forlorn glances at it and making cryptic little hints like “Are you going to be shaving that damn beard off anytime soon?”
The new wrinkle in all this is Baby Dog. I’ve been bearded many times since she joined our lives, but this is the first time she’s been old enough to take an active interest in my facial hair. When the stubble first filled out on my jaw, she scrutinised it and patted it cautiously. She learned to call it “Daddy’s beard.” She learned that the part on my upper lip is “Daddy’s moustache.” And, surprisingly, she seems to have taken a real liking to it. In fact, she likes to kiss my beard. I’ll be rocking her and singing to her at bedtime when suddenly I notice that she seems to be gazing at me in adoration. Historically, she’s spent night-night song time absorbed in playing with Piggie or her own toes or whatever, but more and more she’s been staring up at me. I’ll punctuate my song by kissing the side of her nose at the end of each line, making her giggle uncontrollably. Inevitably at some point she’ll say, “Kiss the beard?” and I’ll lean my big Daddy chin down at her to accept this token of her affection.
So now my personal grooming’s at a crossroads. I rather agree with Mama Dog that my grizzled old face fur is nearing a state of gross unsightliness, but the lure of unsolicited baby kisses is powerful medicine. I’m afraid I’ll have to keep it at least until the moustache hairs start growing into my mouth.
The new wrinkle in all this is Baby Dog. I’ve been bearded many times since she joined our lives, but this is the first time she’s been old enough to take an active interest in my facial hair. When the stubble first filled out on my jaw, she scrutinised it and patted it cautiously. She learned to call it “Daddy’s beard.” She learned that the part on my upper lip is “Daddy’s moustache.” And, surprisingly, she seems to have taken a real liking to it. In fact, she likes to kiss my beard. I’ll be rocking her and singing to her at bedtime when suddenly I notice that she seems to be gazing at me in adoration. Historically, she’s spent night-night song time absorbed in playing with Piggie or her own toes or whatever, but more and more she’s been staring up at me. I’ll punctuate my song by kissing the side of her nose at the end of each line, making her giggle uncontrollably. Inevitably at some point she’ll say, “Kiss the beard?” and I’ll lean my big Daddy chin down at her to accept this token of her affection.
So now my personal grooming’s at a crossroads. I rather agree with Mama Dog that my grizzled old face fur is nearing a state of gross unsightliness, but the lure of unsolicited baby kisses is powerful medicine. I’m afraid I’ll have to keep it at least until the moustache hairs start growing into my mouth.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 1:47 PM
1 Comments:
The answer is to slather peanut butter all over your clean-shaven face at bedtime. That way, both Baby Dog AND Doggy Dog will cover your faces with sloppy, wet kisses!
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