A mother laments Father Time�s beard.
9:21 p.m.
Again determined to be productive, I did two loads of laundry, picked more red currants and made more jam before Hubby and I headed off to visit our friends at their cottage on Lake Massawippi, a jar of still-warm red currant jam proffered as a hostess gift. We had a lovely time. Joyce and I went kayaking on the lake (the first time I have attempted such a thing, although I did much canoeing in my youth) and carried on lively and revealing conversations while our respective husbands played electric guitars together like a couple of teenagers. The weather was perfect and it was a good time.
I noticed this morning that my 15-year-old son has quite the bristle on his chinny-chin-chin. It seems like just yesterday I was teasing him for his fairy moustache, and now I believe he could grow a full beard with little problem. This is my baby!
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