Hook, Line, and Sinker
I have to tell you. The wife and I were talking the other night (the TV was apparently not working), and we were discussing how long we have been married. To hear her say it, it was how looooooooooooooooooooong we have been married. Now you have to remember, I have no formal training with counseling, psychology, sociology, weight lifting, hamburgeralogy (the making of hamburgers) or. . . well. . . anything. I actually feel pretty lucky just to have a job. Sincerely, if I had two brains would be twice as stupid. But despite the lack-o-knowledge-slash-training in ANY field, I do consider myself an expert in marriage, only because we have been married for so long. I always admire the foresight and wisdom people demonstrate when they come to me for marital advice. I’m really looking forward to it actually happening.
There is something I have been thinking about lately that youngin’s just starting out don’t consider. When you’re dating it’s a game to you. You think you have this hot little momma on the line, but the truth of the matter is she has YOU on the line. There is something you’re not considering. I’m going to refer to it as the “hook, line, and sinker.” Now anyone who has ever been fishing, or is an avid watcher of “Sponge Bob Square Pants” knows that “hook, line, and sinker” is a fishing reference. But in this case it has nothing to do with ripping an unsuspecting fish from the water and having it flop around on the deck of a boat. Oh no. In this case it is referring to what your spouse has attached to her (or him, as the case may be). Oh, yes. I’m referring to “The in-laws.”
For YEARS I believed that the only difference between “In-laws” and “Out-laws” is people actually look for and “want” out-laws. I mean there are wanted posters in Post Offices for hell’s sake. You just don’t see posters for In-laws.
Now before you get all “oooohhhhhh Danny’s gonna be in trouble” I want to tell you that I both love and appreciate my in-laws. They have quirks. I mean WOW do they have quirks. For years I thought they had all the cans in the six pack, they were just missing the little plastic thingy that holds them all together. But now I have accepted their shenanigans.
A few weeks ago the wife and I were invited over to my in-laws house for a dinner/game night. We played a game called “Things”. OHMIGOSH!!! It was so fun. And soooooo funny. I HIGHLY recommend purchasing it (we did.) The gist of the game (the word “gist” is a fancy way of saying “the point”) is you are asked a questions, you secretly write down your answer and then everyone tries to guess who wrote what.
One of the questions we were asked was something like, “Inappropriate titles for children’s books.” Because I have OCD I haven’t been able to turn off my brain and I’ve been kicking this around for the past few weeks. Here is a partial list of what I’ve came up with (these are the cleaner ones):
“The Little Engine who couldn’t because he is a worthless bum like your father”
“Duck Duck gets goosed”
“How to cope with being kidnapped –er-surprise adopted”
“Horton Hires a Ho”
“Do you want fries with that?: Not everyone gets to be an astronaut”
“Daddy drinks because you cry”
“One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, DEAD FISH”
“Shhhhhh monsters eat crying children”
“Harry Potter is taught to protect his wand from Hogswarts, when entering her Chamber of Secrets”
You know what? After reading over this list, I think I understand why my wife’s parents were apprehensive about me. I might be the one who is missing the little plastic thingy. I never looked at it that way. But ya know, that’s what you get when you swallow something “hook, line and sinker.”