Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Bard with the Beard!

For the first 22 years of my life, my father had a moustache. It was an epic, Tom Selleck-esque moustache, the likes of which I have become desensitized to (due to living with it for so long). Then, one morning about a year ago, I walked upstairs to a sight I never thought I'd see: My dad without a moustache. No facial hair. No Colonel Sanders goatee. Nary a whisker on his chin (or head, but that's been that way forever).

Yesterday, my sister, the Dapper Dame, arrived home from school and was shocked when my father appeared. He had gone from baby face to beloved Christmas figure. Yes, I have been living with Santa Claus.

Meet my father.

The real irony here is the Scrooge behind that beard. He doesn't help decorate the tree or get excited on Christmas morning when we all sit around to open presents. Not that he doesn't contribute. He's very good-humoured, and every Christmas morning he makes us delicious, delicious pancakes. He's the chef of the family. He makes Christmas dinner, too.

So, now you know. Santa's real. And Mrs. Claus is the Christmassy one.

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