My Wonderful Wife: “Hold still, child… I want to scrape that little bit of dried blood off your face.”
Little Miss Thing, age 5, recoiling: “Why? Are you going to sell it?’
WW: (slow blink) “Hey, honey, can I get a little help here?”
Me: “Hey… it’s a valid question.”
Me: “No, I’m fine. We don’t need to do anything for Fathers Day.”
Wonderful Wife: “Well, I thought you’d like to at least hit a brunch. There’s got to be some all-you-can-eat bacon with your name on it somewhere.”
Me: (slow blink)
Me: “I have never loved you more than I do at this very moment.”
Little Miss Thing, age 5: “I want to swim in just shorts like boys.”
Wonderful Wife: “No, sorry. Girls have to wear tops.”
LMT: “Why?”
WW: “The Patriarchy says so. Which is just another reason to fight the Patriarchy.”
LMT: “Where is the Patriarchy? I want to talk to them.”
Very Vocal Viking 