Mark came into the house, sweaty from his Monday-night game of ultimate disc, and the boys squealed and piled into his lap. He had a big smile that lingered long after the boys unpiled and clattered back downstairs to the playroom. He’d already expressed gratitude that I encouraged him to start playing frisbee with a few guys after work once a week.
ME: (from a horizontal position on the couch; I’m pregnant and tired): Life’s pretty good, huh?
MARK (still grinning): Yes. Life is unreasonably good.
ME: You pretty much got everything you wanted, didn’t you?
MARK: Yup. [taking off his shoes, still grinning] I brainwashed you pretty well.
ME: Good thing you didn’t tell me your plans on our first date.
MARK [still grinning]:
ME: So, like, was sending me to graduate school part of the plan?
MARK: Oh, absolutely. You thought you were preparing for a professional career in academia. But really, all along I was grooming you to be happy as a housewife.
ME: Don’t say that word.
MARK: Grooming?
bearing blog 