Poor Mrs. Weasley...
"And sure enough, a moment later there was a knock on the back door. Mrs. Weasley jumped and hurried to it; with one hand on the doorknob and her face pressed against the wood she called softly, "Arthur, is that you?"
"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eather, dear. Ask the question!"
"Oh, honestly..."
"Molly!"
"All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.
"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"
"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."
"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"
Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.
"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasly into the crack at the edge of the door.
"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."" -Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
It took me a while to recover from this part of the book. Mollywobbles? Seriously, I don't think I could possibly have seven children with a man that calls me Mollywobbles. I'd be more mortified than Mrs. Weasley if I had to admit in front of my son's best friend that my husband calls me Mollywobbles. Good Grief!
"Yes," came Mr. Weasley's weary voice. "But I would say that even if I were a Death Eather, dear. Ask the question!"
"Oh, honestly..."
"Molly!"
"All right, all right... What is your dearest ambition?"
"To find out how airplanes stay up."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and turned the doorknob, but apparently Mr. Weasley was holding tight to it on the other side, because the door remained firmly shut.
"Molly! I've got to ask you your question first!"
"Arthur, really, this is just silly..."
"What do you like me to call you when we're alone together?"
Even by the dim light of the lantern Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley had turned bright red; he himself felt suddenly warm around the ears and neck, and hastily gulped soup, clattering his spoon as loudly as he could against the bowl.
"Mollywobbles," whispered a mortified Mrs. Weasly into the crack at the edge of the door.
"Correct," said Mr. Weasley. "Now you can let me in."" -Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
It took me a while to recover from this part of the book. Mollywobbles? Seriously, I don't think I could possibly have seven children with a man that calls me Mollywobbles. I'd be more mortified than Mrs. Weasley if I had to admit in front of my son's best friend that my husband calls me Mollywobbles. Good Grief!