Warning: Imminent scars ahead

As I noted in an earlier post, Mark recently started shaving (unbeknownst to me). I only found out when he admitted he'd used MY razor.

"I need my own shaver," Mark whined. His peach fuzz was barely visible, but his pride was puffed up and easy to see. This wasn't just about shaving, this was about becoming a man.

I sighed. I couldn't say no without hurting his feelings or stifling his manliness. And so I agreed, but with one condition.

"Uncle Brad will teach you how to shave," I told him. I thought he'd like that (male bonding time! No worrywart moms telling him what to do!), but he waved me off, insisting he already knows how.

I wasn't all that worried about it until I actually went shopping. Five minutes in the razor aisle convinced me that the shaving industry is gunning for Mark's jugular, intent on shredding up my son's sweet little baby face.

The razors weren't just singular blades. Sure, there were some cheapy disposable blades, but I knew Mark would refuse them. He doesn't want plastic blades, he wants a REAL razor, a man's razor.

However...the men of America are apparently all Grizzly Adams types, with thick, coarse beards that will choke a singular blade. These were some of my choices:

Seriously, MACH 3?? TURBO? I had many problems with this, the main ones being THREE blades seem like overkill for a little peach fuzz, and the fact that we're at Mach 3 right out of the starting gate. You wouldn't give a kid a Ferrari the first time he ever drove a car--where's the razor blade equivalent of a nice, safe sedan?? I don't want Mach 3, I want speed bumps (slow down!) and safety bumpers.

The second blade wasn't much better.

Just like that, we're at five blades. FIVE BLADES. America, what is wrong with you? We can't balance the national budget, but we (and by we, I mean MEN) can grow facial hair thick enough to warrant a five-blade attack? Why not machetes? I think I cut myself through the packaging. 

I was beginning to despair. I like my kid's face! I'd like him to keep it intact for maybe a few more years. I'm not looking for a visit to the ER or the blood bank. I don't want him to disfigure himself or earn a "Scarface" nickname. I just want to gently walk my son across the next threshold toward manhood, with his self-esteem and facial skin intact.
 
I finally gave up and purchased a twin-blade razor I thought looked safe enough. But I still wasn't convinced. I called my friend Kelley to lament, and she stopped me with, "Why don't you just get him an electric shaver?"

YES! Genius Kelley. Not only would it eliminate facial grating, Mark would love it because it's an electric gadget (and I wouldn't have to buy expensive replacement blades once a week as Mark tore through them). Kelley for the win!

I searched around online and found an inexpensive shaver that came highly recommended for teens with thin hair. (Sorry, Grizzly Adams.) It's compact, washable, and has a safety cover so you can't even see any razor blades. I let out a huge sigh of relief--Scarface has left the building!

It may not seem like a banner day at my house, but today will forever be known as the Day I Saved Mark's Face.