This morning, over breakfast, Ruby had something to say.
“I want to grow a mustache,” she said.
I started giggling. I couldn’t help it.
She nodded. It was definitive.
“Uh…” I struggled for words, my barely-caffeinated brain grasping for words.
She chewed another bite of her cinnamon-sugar English muffin. She sipped her milk. She swallowed.
Ah. She seemed to think it a matter of permission.
“Well, we all have a little mustache-“
“Yeah!” Ruby interrupted excitedly, hope on her face. “I have some light hairs on my legs”. She pulled up her purple pajama pant leg to show me. She rubbed at the long blonde hairs that have been in evidence since she was a toddler.
“Ruby,” I began. “You can’t grow a mustache. I get some dark hairs sometimes, but I pull them out.”
Ruby mimed ripping hairs out of her face. Ouch! Yes, indeed. Ruby has yet to face initiation into the shaving-1/3-of-your-body-regularly sisterhood. And she wants to add *more* hair?! Oy.
“Oh!” she said. “You could shave them.”
“I could. But I won’t. Most girls can’t grow full mustaches or beards. It’s not how we’re made. Sorry.”
She thought about this concept for a moment.
“But my cousin Jenny (not her real name) really wants one,” she finished.
I couldn’t stop laughing then. I remember having a crush on Tom Selleck during my junior high years. It was all about the mustache. It epitomized derring-do and excitement. Admit it: mustaches do have a certain elan.
I wonder if God laughs, too. How many things in life do we whimsically wish for and we simply can’t attain? I wanted to grow 2 more inches, but it ain’t gonna happen. It’s a waste of time and energy to hope for the impossible. I didn’t laugh because having a mustache is an unworthy goal. It simply seemed…unnecessary. Both Jenny and Ruby have pretty long, brown hair and sparkling eyes. With infectious laughs, boundless creativity, winning smiles and a daunting sense of style, they’re unstoppable. What else do they need? Why gild the lily, so to speak?