Oh, really?

Irony personified in a look

Sassy has been trying really hard to master the one eyebrow look of skepticism.  So far she is very frustrated. Her father and I give her the look all the time. Primarily because she is often completely full of crap and that look says, “Really?” with all the implied sarcasm.

We’ll be sitting at dinner and she’ll get all excited and say, “Look! I’m doing it.” I’ll glance over at her and her facial muscles will be completely impassive, her eyebrows exactly even on her forehead. You could use a level on them, they’re so even.

the Super-High Rise

“Nope,” I’ll say. “Keep practicing.”

“No, I’m doing it,” she’ll insist. Her forehead will be so smooth it’ll look like she’s had Botox.

“Uh-huh.” I’ll shake my head and purse my lips.

At that point, she’ll usually lift her fingers to her face and examine her forehead region.

“Darn it.” She’ll deflate. “I was sure I was doing it that time.”

perfectly executed half-naked eyebrow lift

“Practice in front of a mirror,” I suggest. “Then you’ll be able to see that nothing is moving up there.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m doing it, though.”

I’ll flash her a look with my eyebrow darn near in my hair line. That just makes her mad. So I do it again. Just to prove I can.

“How come you can do it so good?” she’ll ask.

Really? Cause I’ve been doing it for forty-odd years. I have sarcasm, in all its finer points, down to a science.  If they’d had sonograms when I was in utero you can bet you’d have seen my little eyebrow up there saying, “Really? Mexican food again, Mom?”