'Stache

The boy was leaning over the edge of the couch talking with me when I saw it. Initially, I hoped it was a horrible trick of the light. Nope. There were long blond hairs that had sprouted like Jack's magical beans in a favorite fairy tail. It got worse. I had him tilt his head while I carefully examined his upper lip. There were 1/4" long, dark hairs over the corners of his lips. Heh?
When did the boy sprout this 'stache? It cannot possibly have happened overnight. I really do not think it was there yesterday.
After closely examining his face to his mixed reaction of delight (It must be real for Mom to be checking it out.) and disappointment (Why does it have to go?), I announced that we were going to the store for some non-girly-scented shaving gel and razors that were not fuchsia with lavender scent. I was really wishing that Don was home. I contemplated waiting for him, but the idea of those hairs over my son's lip demanded action. Now.
Evan and I hopped in the truck to go pick up some depilatory supplies that didn't reek of pre-teen girl. I was still talking to God about how this was really a Daddy thing when I saw Don drive past us going the opposite way on the street. We turned back to the house to pick up Don. He came out of the house having already been informed by the girls that their brother had grown a moustache out of nowhere (and that Mom was feeling decidedly prejudicial toward said facial hair).
We set off again to procure the necessary supplies to rid my son's face of the latest signs of impending doom... er, puberty. Since I am the pickier consumer in my marriage, I had more to do with the actual selection of hair-removal products than Don, but I was glad he was present in case some creepy guy question came up. We purchased the boy's razors and shaving gel and headed back home so Don can demonstrate the use of said items.