By A Whisker


“Who’s the ugly one with the whiskers?” Miss7 asked her mother.

On Tracey’s screen was a photo of the two of us about to go to a Rock themed birthday party from, I think, 2008. I’d shared it because a ‘friend’ nominated me to re-share my first Facebook profile picture.

As you can see, I was Angus, and Tracey was rocking my world. Obviously.

Tracey giggled as she turned to look at the picture which had caught Miss7’s attention. At first.

“That’s your…,” she started to say. And then her face changed to a look of horror as she realized I didn’t have any facial hair. “Wait…which one has whiskers? Point to the one you mean.”

At this junction I feared for my young daughter’s safety. But at the same time, with all my heart, I hoped she’d point to Tracey. Because whiskers!

Miss7’s finger taped the screen as both Tracey and I held our breaths.

“Oh, good,” said Tracey. “That’s your father.”

I shouldn’t be too disappointed really. After all, Miss7 wasn’t harmed.

But then it’s occurred to me she just called me ugly…

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”

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