I spent yesterday afternoon with my family - eating carbs, playing games, and listening to my 5-year-old niece speak. The latter has to do with the fact that Katelynne has the most distinct New Jersey accent of anyone I've ever met. She was born and raised in Alabama, so I am guessing she was sneaking episodes of The Sopranos when she was working through language development. I need to record her chatter and post it here...you would shake your head, for sure.
Katelynne grabbed my hand and led me to the stockings hung by my parents' chimney with care. She had an intense look of concern on her face when she asked "Wheh-er is yo huz-band's stockin gonna go?" It wasn't until that moment I realized there is no room on the mantle for added family members. I am guessing it was an attempt on my mother's part to subtlely hint to my brother to stop reproducing (4 kids). However, Katelynne is right. Where is his stocking going to hang?
Then I looked at the seating arrangement for dinner. Six at the dining room table and three at the bar. (Of course, Katelynne, my 9-year-old niece Ashlynne, and I occupy the "kiddie table.") There is not an inch of space to seat my husband.
When I challenged my Mom on this, she unemphatically promised to get a new table if I could snag a husband. It was as if she threw down the gauntlet.
God and I will make her eat those words. Right, God?