Whaaaaa??

Add this to the file of Things I Am Not Ready For:

*ahem*

The Impossible Son... has fuzz on his upper lip.

*flail flail flail*

No, it's not cat hair, it's not chocolate syrup on his upper lip... it's hair. Stiff little hairs.

*meep!*

I'd noticed this a few weeks ago, actually, but tucked it away neatly in my Denial Drawer. Nice big roomy thing, my Denial Drawer. Lots of room for stuff I'd Rather Not Think About™

Anyhow, I'd noticed this... subtle shading on the corners of his upper lip. It was really apparent when we were at the beach, and I had actually pretended at one point to be rubbing sand off his chin so I could take a better look in bright sunlight and... promptly shoved what I'd seen in my Denial Drawer. But I couldn't help noticing it again, and again, and again.

Finally, tonight, in our poorly lit bedroom (we had the lights low to encourage sleepiness), it was unmistakable, and I got the flashlight and put on my glasses and took a really good look... then got the Husbandly One for corroboration, and... yeah. Fuzzy Lip Syndrome.

*weeps*

Where did my baby go????

And while I'm going through this emotional toss up of my Denial Drawer, the Husbandly One says, "Oh, yeah, I started shaving when I was TWELVE."

*jaw-drop*

Don't mind me, I'll just go curl up in the corner with a paper bag over my head, rearranging the contents of my Denial Drawer. While singing. Loudly. And NOT thinking about the hair on my son's upper lip. And his legs.

*sticking her fingers in her ears and singing "LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-I-CAN'T-HEAR-YOU!" loudly*