Back in August when Jon asked me about growing a beard, I knew this dreaded day would come. And of all mornings, this is the one he chose.
Coming into our room he proclaimed, "Enjoy my beard while it is here, Melissa!" So I rubbed it once. Then he disappears in the bathroom for some time. After some minutes, he comes out with some ridiculous reason as to why this look was really cool, and how he was completely stumped as to why no one had a handlebar, as he called it.
Being the gracious wife I am, I told him (a lot) how un-cool it was, and that I would not leave the house with him until he fixed it.
His last appeal was the mustache, which thankfully, was gone after 5 minutes.