I was frowning because my husband was technically clean at that moment. My husband, who was sitting on the floor beside me, also had the what-is-he-talking-about look written all over his face.
“Papa, dirty. Papa, dirty,” Matt breezily said.
He is joking. But no sooner had I thought that than he tentatively pointed to the faint stubble just right above his father’s upper lip.
“Dirty, Papa,” he said again as he touched his father’s chin.
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