This week’s Monday post was going to be about our experience with buying an island car and driving for the first time, but that’s going to have to wait for another day because last night, as we were drifting off to sleep, I was suddenly slapped in the face with another blog topic.
The Mister: “Are you ok?”
Me: “My nose feels funny.”
The Mister: “Well does it feel sad?”
*moment of silence while I process this*
The Mister: “You said it feels funny. Does it feel sad?”
Me: “Did you really just ask that?”
My first thought: “OH MY GOODNESS I HAVE MARRIED MY FATHER!”
My second thought: “This has to be a blog post.”
People told me it would happen – that girls look for husbands that remind them of their fathers. To everyone’s credit, I had been warned.
Now, just to clarify, I have been blessed with a wonderful father and am a hopeless daddy’s girl in most scenarios. I always wanted to find a man that was about 40% my dad and 60% my grandfather, and I think I did. The Mister is attentive, kind, affectionate, hardworking, resourceful, intelligent and I can totally see him helping me up and down the stairs after two knee replacements when I’m older.
And while the Mister has always made me laugh, it’s only in the last few months that his sense of humor has become drier and alarmingly more like my dad’s somewhat warped sense of the hilarious. My brother and I grew up telling our dad on a probably daily basis, “Daddy, that’s not as funny as you think it is,” and now I find myself mentally telling my husband the same thing. I had hoped the Mister would not scar our children for life by telling them that black olives are monkey eyes and bananas are moldy spider legs, but that may still be in my future (as well as in my past. . . *shudder*).
Of course, I turned out alright I guess, despite my dad’s strange jokes, dry sarcasm and affinity for awkward comparisons, so I suppose the Mister turning out the same way wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
. . . Until our son stands up in the middle of a restaurant one day after asking what his dad’s eggs-over-easy are and yells, “THAT’S NOT BUZZARD PUS!” for the whole world to hear. Maybe then he’ll learn. . . just like my daddy did. 🙂