Lincoln definitely has a thing with touch. He has to touch every surface he walks by and he’ll sometimes pet me and Becky.

He has been a bit of a demon about going to sleep at bedtime so one night, instead of sending him back to bed for the 14th time, I let him watch me shave. He was full of questions and just chatting away.

A few days later, while we were reading a book, my face grazed up against his. The stubble must have felt kinda neat because he just started starting in my eyes and rubbing my face. Over and over and saying “Daddy, you sooo smooth” (you have to imagine it in his voice).

It’s just the cutest thing…and it means so much to me because of this story….

My Dad was not around when I was supposed to learn how to shave. I hadn’t yet met the friends whose Dad’s would become surrogates to me and help make me into who I am today. It was mostly just me, my sister and my Mom. 

Freshman year of high school was tough. I went to Germantown schools all of my life but high school brought together kids from different middle schools. The social statuses of kids with fancy houses and those with less fancy houses were starting. And because we lived out of district, I could no longer ride the bus. 

Around this time, i started to grow facial hair. Teenage boys think their facial hair is cool. No matter how awful it looks. Peach fuzz that doesn’t quite grow in right or in full.

I…..had my first hairs grown on my cheeks. Big curly hairs on my cheek. I had a littttle goatee (that I was super proud of) And then whiskers.

Looking back at pictures makes me almost shudder. A Dad would have told me gently to cut it off. Or how to shave. I don’t remember anyone making fun of me for it. My Mom (or Grand-dad or Uncle) probably told me something in such a way that I got a razor and cut it. But it’s one of the many things about not having a main male figure during those last formative years that I think define so much of the younger generation.

But it will not affect my son…