Last summer when Brig first showed up around here I called him "Marty Poppins". Behind his back, of course. I called him this because like Mary Poppins he just came riding down the wind one day, plunked down on our doorstep and caused quite a stir, changing our family forever. And, just like Mary, who came and lightened and lifted and made lives better just by being her, Brig has been a breath of fresh air. He is quite possibly the most optimistic, gregarious and sincere disciple of Dale Carnegie on the planet. And if all this were not enough he is also a very good husband to Kenz. Good as in holding Kenzie's head and hair back while she pukes her guts out (so admirable considering seeing someone puke makes him want to puke.) I don't know why this should be so touching to me but it is. But what's not so touching to me is being attacked by miniature marshmallows. What was I thinking in giving you a marshmallow launcher as a birthday gift? My bad. Very bad. Of course you would actually use it and of course you would find perverse enjoyment in shooting up your mother-in-law. Still, even as I am digging spent marshmallows out of the couch cushions and out of my hair and the one stuck to my leg, I am smiling. You can be so endearing.
For all your A.S.S. tough guy ways, I know the truth about you B.Gomer. You are an amazing and wonderful and super person and we love you. Dearly.
To be sure though, next year I will get you socks.
No comments:
Post a Comment