Mommy’s Little Girl

Over the course of making a marriage work, the Wife and I have established a number of what I’ll call “behavioral agreements.” For the purposes of this post, an example would be as follows: when the Wife is sitting down and doesn’t want to get off her duff to get something for herself, she’ll ask me to do it for her. But she always makes the request prior to me sitting down; as in, I start to sit down and she’ll say “Before you sit down, could you get me a drink of water?”

She won’t make the request if I’m already sitting down; and, if I’m fortunate enough to get my rear planted prior to the request, she’s SOL. She started doing that because way back in paleolithic times, she’d make the request literally as I sat down or a microsecond thereafter; and I let it be known that her timing sucked. She’s improved her timing and I’m still working on my next plausible excuse to evade the requests.

So this morning, having cooked everyone a nice bacon and egg breakfast I went to sit down and putter around the intertubes for a bit, when from behind me arose a very familiar sounding request, only this time it was from the lass: “Dad, before you sit down could you get me some more milk from the ‘frigerator?”

The Wife just laughed.