Me, to Anna: “Baby, don’t cry. Let me wipe your droolies. Do you want another ba-ba before bed?”
Doug: “Now why won’t the bartender ever say that to me?”
A little baby/drunk metaphorical humor for you all.
Maddening Matrimony
Oh, baby.
So today I reach for a pair of shorts way in the back of a drawer and think to myself, “A perfect fit! I must be losing the baby fat!” Doug takes one look at the shorts and asks, “What do those say? ‘Baby?’” –and sure enough, there it was, in glittery cursive, etched smack across my butt.
Guess I’ll be holding onto the maternity fashions just a little bit longer…
They say truth is stranger than fiction…
…and I often turn to my husband for clarity. In 2003 I asked, “Why am I purchasing a house with Doug Lariviere?” Three years later I puffed, “Why is Doug Lariviere wheeling me into the maternity ward?” And today, “Why am I celebrating my seventh wedding anniversary with Doug Lariviere?”
His answer is always the same: “Because you’re smart.”
Who am I to argue?
Marital disputes make me fat.
Last night after Doug saw the error of his ways, he picked me up a box of Double Stuffed Oreos. Does it count if he polished off half the box before I got to open it?