Since Banner is essentially a clone of his father (albeit with my father's hairline and bedhead), it is sometimes difficult for me to identify traits that he got from me specifically.
Until something like this happens:
Sometime back in early December, Trevor stopped shaving. Apparently, he randomly gets lazy and decides to grow a beard for no good reason other than the act of shaving is suddenly too much effort.
Except I didn't notice until mid January. Because, as we've already established, being unobservant is sort of my superpower. Assuming, of course, superpowers can be completely useless and counterproductive (story of my life). And, just to clarify, Trevor isn't one of those guys that can't grow a beard. The man doesn't shave for a week, and he essentially belongs on Duck Dynasty.
So, yeah. I totally should have noticed that the man I sleep next to every night had grown a beard, but didn't. Trevor refuses to be surprised anymore.
(Unlike me who ALWAYS finds these kinds of situations surprising. It might be old news to everyone else, but it is brand, stinkin' new over here in Camp Unobservant. So there!)
But I digress. On Sunday, Trevor decided to shave off said beard. Not that I noticed on the first go (hey, the Super Bowl was on, I had just stepped out of the shower and was engrossed in the most recent Budweiser commercial), but - I'm proud to say - I got it when he passed by the second time.
(Although, to be fair, he did tell me he was going into the backyard to shave, and asked to borrow my compact mirror. The same mirror I proceeded to use after getting out of the shower, and - upon opening it - was horrified to be suddenly be covered in about a million tiny, red beard hairs. So, the fact that my husband had been a'shavin' was sort of on the forefront of my mind. Well, at least until the Budweiser puppy went missing...)
(Also, you now know why Trevor shaves off his beard outside.)
Anyway, last night at dinner (MORE THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS LATER), Banner looked at Trevor, cocked his head to the side and asked, "Daddy, where you beard go?"
Granted, it didn't take the kid a month to notice, but I'm starting to suspect the little dude might have inherited his mother's (most useless) superpower.
Victory dance!
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