The other morning I was jolted awake, my beauty rest carelessly interrupted as 33 lbs. of four-year-old came barreling down on top of me, knee-first into my sternum. “It’s daytime!” Noah screeched. It was far too early and Noah was far too chipper.
As I lay rubbing my chest, I tried to explain to Noah that he couldn’t jump on Daddy like that. “It hurts, and it makes it hard to breathe,” I told him.
He just smirked and rose to his feet once again, ready to inflict pain to his dad once more.
“Noah, don’t jump. That hurts me when you do that. I love to wrestle with you, but sometimes we shouldn’t be so rough. Especially when I’m asleep.”
“Daddy, can we make toast and then put some eggs on it?” he replied.
I groaned. “Noah did you listen to what I said?”
He only collapsed into my lap and pointed to my forehead. “Dad, is that your mad wrinkle?”
“What are you talking about?”
He pointed to the area directly between my eyebrows. “Is that your mad wrinkle?”
“What? I don’t have a mad wrinkle,” I replied as I reached up and felt the area to which he was pointing.
“Yes you do!”
Later that morning, I studied my face in the mirror. There was no doubt that Noah was right. I do have a mad wrinkle.
|If you want to really see the wrinkle, click on the image to enlarge it. It’s rather disturbing.|
Hmmmm, they say you can determine how frequently somebody has laughed in their life by how defined their laugh lines are. I don’t really have any laugh-lines developing, so what will everybody assume I spent my life doing?
At their current depth, my mad wrinkle is going to be a canyon in my old age.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS. Please comment! Where are the first odd places you’ve found wrinkles as you’ve aged? Does anybody else have a mad wrinkle, or is it just me?