double happiness
There are moments when I feel unbelievably lucky to have married my wife, mostly in the moments when we are being the most silly. We'll get into a goofy back-and-forth of Scooby Doo-esque "I ruhve roo!" that can go on for ten minutes, or maybe one of us will mess up a word and the other will spend the next fifteen minutes playing linguistically with the screw-up, elevating this to the status of nigh-deconstruction. We playfully poke at each other, then make sad puppy-dog eyes and pouty-lower lips to get sympathy.
And then there are the times we go grocery shopping.
It could be something as innocent as browsing the extensive cheese selection, and one of us will say, "Who moved my cheese?" Which will be responded with, "Who smelled my cheese?" then "Who hid my cheese down their pants?" and then it'll progress to "Who sneezed out my cheese?" and "Who used my cheese as roll-on deodorant?" and "Who wiped their ass with my cheese?" And so on, until the dirty looks from the other shoppers around us make us stop.
Or like today, about an hour ago, upon coming across a box of ready-to-make flan, where we'll burst out with, "This flan is your flan, this flan is my flan, go get your own flan, hands off of my flan! This flan was made for only me!" And then we would sing the song all the way home in the car, making up new verses and giggling hysterically.
We are both two intensely silly people. And we were made for each other.
Happy happy.
And then there are the times we go grocery shopping.
It could be something as innocent as browsing the extensive cheese selection, and one of us will say, "Who moved my cheese?" Which will be responded with, "Who smelled my cheese?" then "Who hid my cheese down their pants?" and then it'll progress to "Who sneezed out my cheese?" and "Who used my cheese as roll-on deodorant?" and "Who wiped their ass with my cheese?" And so on, until the dirty looks from the other shoppers around us make us stop.
Or like today, about an hour ago, upon coming across a box of ready-to-make flan, where we'll burst out with, "This flan is your flan, this flan is my flan, go get your own flan, hands off of my flan! This flan was made for only me!" And then we would sing the song all the way home in the car, making up new verses and giggling hysterically.
We are both two intensely silly people. And we were made for each other.
Happy happy.