Nicky, my nine-year-old, has a mustache. Not a hairy one, but a mustache, nevertheless. While I was cooking dinner, Joel came down to announce that Nicky had been using a razor. Why? Because it was there. He's got a pretty good cut on his upper lip. Looks like a red Hitler mustache. He also has a raw patch on his cheek where he tried to shave.
Nicky got the scolding and discipline needed for his actions. But he still had to endure the teasing of his brothers. They started joking around the dinner table. They gave him "Heil Hitler" salutes. Matthew started using Star Wars statements adjusted to Nicky's situation.
Terry told Nicky not to do it again, but that all boys tried that once in their lives.
"Sure," said one. "I cut my lip in the same spot. Just not as bad."
"Who shaved their legs?" One of the boys asked.
"Who shaved their eyebrows?" Another one teased.
"I shaved my face and my legs."
That last confession caused silence to fall on the table. Everyone stared at the speaker (you'll notice the names have been withheld to protect the guilty.)
He looked around awkwardly for a moment and then said, "Once. I shaved them once."
Great. they play with razors and long to use them right up until the time they start developing facial hair. And then suddenly it's a huge imposition for them to shave. It's almost a daily battle to get them to shave. And they say women are fickle.
Maybe not fickle, but at least when we cut our legs shaving, the bandaid isn't so obvious!