Cai told me last night that Daddy’s wench is missing.
“Mommy?” Cai said. “Mah-mee. MommyMomMomMommyMom!”
“Yes, Cai?” I replied absentmindedly, eyes affixed to the seventeenth Stephanie Plum novel and rather not paying the kind of attention I should’ve been paying to my preschooler.
“Daddy lost his wench.”
I started paying attention.
“Daddy lost his wench,” Cai said, “and he’s very sad.”
Cai stood solemnly, pondering his father’s loss. We locked eyes, and I nodded sympathetically.
“Losing a wench sounds like a terrible thing, Cai Cai.”
“Yes, Mommy. It is. Daddy says he needs the wench sometimes to fix his plumbing. Daddy says a wench can fix a wot of things, and we need to be very careful about keeping wenches where we can find them. Daddy says we have to put the wenches right back in their place as soon as we’re done playing with them, so they don’t get lost.”
I really don’t…
That is, I…
I’m not sure what to…
I guess there’s nothing else to say, really.
I suppose I just wanted someone to know.
I posted a link to this post on Greg’s Facebook wall because I’m a loving wife and I think nothing says Loving Wifery like publicly announcing that my husband’s wench is missing.
Greg replied: Fortunately I find new ones all the time. I don’t care if they are well used already, they still get the job done.
And then my dad replied: Knowing him as I do I’m certain Greg didn’t lose it gamboling. Likely it is just miss-laid. And he must get his relaxed attitude from his Dad who has bragged to me for *years* about finding wayward ones in the back seats of cars.
And then Greg’s dad replied: Yes, and I found several just yesterday behind the seat of a Dodge pickup. Even better, I told Greg about the great find BEFORE I knew his wench had moved on!
These are the men in my life.
Who are examples to my sons.
And I love them
P.S. The comments below…. baha!