Our Daughter Raises A Few Brows


Sometimes the best thing about a morning coffee is the thing you hear while your mouth is busy sipping instead of snapping at the kids.

This morning, while I threw back a shot of hot black sanity, Tracey was busy with nail polish remover on Miss9’s fingers. So far, nothing was unusual. But then our daughter, clearly with nothing better to do, started to glance around and, like a curious cat drawn to a careless pigeon, her eyes settled on the face of her mother.

For a brief second, she frowned intently. If she had a tail I swear it would’ve been swaying rhythmically behind her. Then she pounced. Softly.

“Oooh,” she said in a tone which clearly said I’ve just had a epiphany, but also go on, ask me what this is about.

Then she went quiet and, I swear, swished her tail some more.

“What’s up?” Tracey asked, taking the bait.

To be fair, if I wasn’t at that exact moment sipping my coffee shot, I would have.

“Nothing,” Miss9 said, then immediately went on. “Only I was thinking now I know where I get my monobrow from.”

I couldn’t see Tracey’s face but I doubted it matched mine, which was contorted in a silent guffaw with a dribble of coffee running down my chin.

But Miss9 wasn’t done.

“I always thought I got it from Dad,” she said. Then she pointed a finger between Tracey’s eyes. “But now I think I’ve got yours.”

Tracey wasn’t quite up to making a comment yet, which I thought was a good thing because I could see Miss9 had more to add to this wonderful revelation.


“Unless….” she started, then paused for a few seconds to either contemplate her next thought or add an element of theatre. With her you can never tell.

Personally, I couldn’t hardly wait for the next gem.

“…unless,” she went on, “I’ve got both yours and Dad’s eyebrow.”

Brillia- !

Wait. What? Awwwww, bugger. And we were having so much fun.

She wasn’t done.

“You both have monobrows. Are you and Dad related?” she asked, and now I was pretty sure mine and Tracey’s faces were in sync.

“No!” we both exclaimed. If I hadn’t been so intricately involved in the conversation I would have suggested we protested too much.

“Okay,” she said, but in no way looked convinced. “So I guess it’s just a coincidence you both have the same last name.”

Purrfect sense or just plain catty. You decide.


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Raising a family on little more than laughs.


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