Monday, October 19, 2009

A Third Sunday in October

Ryan fell asleep in my arms at 5:50 last night. We had been looking at photos of carved Pumpkins on the Google. We were picking our favorites. Up until that point it was a long tumultuous day. There were no naps. There were tantrums. Ryan threw a tantrum or three too.

My Beautiful Bride and I seemed to be playing out a Western. We stood most of the day, back to back, twenty paces apart. The only time we turned was to shoot. She was trying to run me out of town. She musta forgot I was the Sheriff. I felt like Clint Eastwood. BB was a Hot Chick baddie that my little one horse town had never seen the likes of before. There was tension between us. There was also a Spaghetti Western Soundtrack between us. There was also a two and half year old boy saying “I made a cookie (our word for flatulence) and burp. Scuse me!” between us. I can’t go into too much detail. It would be unfair to my Beautiful Bride. I couldn’t possibly give her side of the story. Let’s just say I was 100% right. I am the Sheriff after all.

Being right is a lonely place. I should know, I am always right. If your right you don’t have to listen to what the other person says because it’s all wrong anyway. Sometimes the whole premise of the other person’s argument is inadmissible in the court of me. Not only am I the Sheriff, I also sit in for the Judge when BB and I are having a particularly disagreeable day. No one wants to be around you when you are 100% right though. Being right is so lonely that you have lots of time to think and reconsider and then get struck by the lightning of how wrong you actually are. Damn.

To be fair, I was not all wrong. I made the situation worse by projecting my righteousness like the chin of a “Rock'Em Sock'Em Robot”. I was due for the knockout. We have a system where we don’t say “I’m Sorry!”. You are not giving anything up by saying ”I’m Sorry!” . When you ask for forgiveness you are giving up your power. You might not be forgiven. So, I asked for forgiveness and she gave it to me.

The warm fuzzy feeling had returned to our home. Mommy started to make dinner. Ryan and I started our Pumpkin research. Ryan yawned and snuggled and drifted off. It was a beautiful sight. His skin was shiny from that sleeping child perspiration. His breathing was heavy and peaceful and had the sound of gravity pulling him down further. The shadows of his long lashes luxuriated in the dim evening light. I carried him up to his bed. I kissed his sweaty brow.

Dinner was ready. It was only 6:00. We had the whole night ahead of us. We ate by candlelight. We carved a pumpkin. We watched “Maid of Honor”. My Bride loves the Romantic Comedies. They make her Romantic. I remain Comical. We kissed. We went to bed early. A perfect day!

1 comment:

  1. Sounds like a perfect day! If only I were right all the time...oh wait, I am. Because if momma ain't happy, ain't nobody happy! That's what my husband says anyway. I'm probably not right. He just tells me I am so I will still make a dinner plate for him and pick up his clothes. I think it's a fair trade.