bigote

I belatedly started growing my facial hair a few weeks back (those who are clever among you should be able to discern which Alfar is writing this LOL), encouraged by my barber to give it a try.

Now for her entire life, Sage has known her father as a man with a shaved head and no moustache or beard. So when my moustache and beard started to thicken, she would cringe when I kissed her, tickled by my growing hair.

Finally, she asked me what that thing on my upper lip was.

"It's my bigote," I told her.

She turned to her mother and said "Me too. I want bigote."

Unfazed, Nikki whipped out her eyebrow pencil and drew several dark lines on Sage's upper lip. "There you go," she said, as Sage sat quietly.

"You look great,Sage," I told the little girl.

"I'm not Sage," she informed us.

"Who are you then?" I asked.

"I'm Daddy," she said, picking herself off the bed and exiting the door to go to the office. "Bye, Mommy," she waved to Nikki.

"Wait, wait," I called after her. "If you're Daddy, who am I?" I asked.

"Sage," she replied, with a look on her face that brooked no further argument.