There is very little we argue about. When it comes to her sons, however, we can become very confrontational! Like just the other day!TLW (The Little Woman): “Did you put some aside for #2 son?”
“No, he can make his own, I made some stuff and put it in the freezer for him.”
TLW: “No good, we make fresh on weekends, it’s the weekend”
“I’d like to make some fresh…”
TLW: “What?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just finishing off my prayers for the day.”
“Well I guess I’ll have to make him sauce.”
“No, until the lab tests come in and prove otherwise, he’s still officially my son, I’ll make a special sauce.”
TLW: “Thank you.”
After much additional work on my part, TLW comes over and starts to lower some burners while raising others.
“What are you doing?”
TLW: “Some of the burners are pretty low!”
“That is because I am slow cooking.
TLW: “Oh, I didn’t know.”
“Yes, well that is why I am the chef today, and you are the eater. Me king, you peasant. I wear the pants in the house, YOU don’t!”
TLW: “Are you making enough for #2 Son?”
“Yes, dear.”
TLW: “Throw this into the sauce you made for him.”
“But that is tofu.”
TLW: “It’s ‘make believe chicken’. He is a vegetarian.”
“Make believe chicken?!”
TLW: “You KNOW what I mean.”
“Is that how they labeled it?”
TLW is your typical mother, doting over her babies, even if they ARE 22 going on 70.
As her husband, there are certain things I must follow for a happy marriage. #1 rule is, “Forget about yourself, the kids come first.” That is a hard and fast rule. I follow it because I want to live through the night. It IS a rule I do follow, it’s just that when it comes to her babies, I must be put on alert that that is now in effect! A sort of do or die rule.
If you are a mother, you understand this policy. Any mother worth her weight in Bon bons does this automatically. It starts three minutes before the first kid shots through the birth canal, and stays that way until you die, as a father.
“Mom, Dad’s dead.”
Mother: “Did you eat?”
“Yes Mom, but Dad’s dead, he’s just laying there!”
Mother: “Is he laying in front of the refrigerator, I put your barbeque sauce in there.”
“No Ma, what do you want to do with Dad?”
“Eat first Dear, then put him at the curb tomorrow morning.”
Sounds like an exaggeration? I think not.
No father worth his weight in beer will kick the bucket before the kids have eaten.
1 comment:
Your kids will always be your kids, no matter how old they get. I always thought there would come a time when they were on their own and I could stop worrying about them. I'm still waiting.
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