On Friday, my daughter Emma asked, "Can we not go anywhere today?" "Oooookay," I answered. "Why?" Emma put her face close to my ear and whispered, "Because I want to draw a mustache on myself." "Ok, Emma, go ahead," I chuckled. So Emma immediately ran to the mirror and drew a big, lopsided purple mustache on her face with a Crayola marker. She was immensely proud of her mustache, prancing and dancing about, making faces and growling like a pirate. When her father came home, he took one amused look at her and called out, "Mustachio!" Emma's wonderfully whimsical mood immediately turned sour, and she stomped off in a huff.