My Wife, The Good Sport

I feel bad for my wife sometimes. For one, I tricked her into marrying me, somehow. And the poor women hasn’t figured out that she’s so amazing that she could have convinced any man on the planet to put a ring on her finger. I’m still waiting for the day when she figures it out but until then, I’ll keep living the dream. She also puts up with me publicly poking fun at her.

But the biggest reason I feel bad for her is because she’s going to have to deal with practical jokes for the rest of her life. I love them. But I’ve never had an audience, or a cohort for that matter. I’m already assuming my boy will be born with the ornery gene. So naturally, it would follow that we will eventually team up and combine forces to make my wife live on edge for the rest of her life. I will, most assuredly, document all the mom-imposed timeouts my son must endure as a result of the shenanigans I initiate.

But she knows it’s coming. She’s already admitted that she’s OK with carrying that burden for our family. It’s one of the reasons I love her; she can take a joke with a smile on her face.