I turned around the other day, and there it was - the five o'clock shadow, not to mention the mustache and goatee.
Sigh.
I knew it was coming one day. You know how you just know? I knew.
The whiskers, the deep voice, the pronounced muscles that would suddenly and forever hide the skinny boy bodies that I so love - I knew it would come.
But, already?
I'm not done with my little boys just yet. I'm not ready to look up into their eyes. I'm not ready to have after-shave and deodorant sitting on their bathroom counter. I'm not ready to see feet hanging off the ends of their beds when I walk silently into their room to watch them sleeping deeply in the early morning hours.
Luckily for this Mama, after that boy up there had scratched his whisker itch awhile, his facial hair washed right off after a bit of scrubbin' with warm water and soap.
And there, like that, my freckled, soft-cheeked boy was back. He just had to try the whiskers on for size, to get an idea of what might be coming down the Manhood Pike for him one day.
Oh, but for now he's back! My boy is back, and I'm reminded. Reminded to soak up every moment of his soft-cheeked, sweet-voiced, skinny-bodied boyishness.
Because one day I'll turn around, and the whiskers won't wash off.
I know.
