whiskers.

I can't remember what began this thought process, but the other day I was suddenly and very clearly reminded of how, when I was but a wee little thing, my dad used to come into my bedroom when I was all tucked into bed... snug like a bug in a rug, and he would lean down to give me a kiss goodnight. I liked this very much. I like kisses and hugs and mushy things like those. BUT... moreso what I remembered is how every now and then, he would rub his cheek against mine and even dare to tickle in that ticklish spot on my neck. this sounds fine and dandy... maybe even "nice".... but you can't imagine the effect it had on me! you see, whenever he would do this, he usually hadn't shaved that day... and so he had whiskers. and it tickled like you wouldn't even believe. when this would happen, I would promptly burst into giggles and squeal like.... like.... something that squeals loudly and joyfully. maybe a train whistle. and squirm. of course. but I loved every minute of it. absolutely loved it. and after a moment you'd hear Mom call, "Rob. Don't get her all wound up!" too late. poor moms. they sometimes get the short end of the stick. you get your kid all settled and then.... Dad goes to say "goodnight". sigh. but I'm fairly certain that each night the whisker incident happened, I fell asleep with a smile gracing my rosy, previously wound up, face.

I'm glad I remembered.