I think we can all agree that an alternate title for the "Conversations with Smiths" could be "Poor Todd". The man puts up with a lot from us, bless him.
A few nights ago while at the pool with friends, I was explaining that I'd had reunion with my childhood friend, Dave. Dave and I became very good friends at the tender age of 9. We are as different as can be, but found mutual satisfaction in long walks and hikes and beating each other up. Now, when I say beating each other up, I'm not being euphamistic. We were rough on each other. There was biting, scratching, hair pulling, tackling, wrestling. Hours of my youth were spent in hand to hand combat with this boy. And we both loved every minute of it! (Well, maybe not the hair pulling. I still don't love that.)
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| Todd even took pictures to document. |
Anyway, we spent the night at the house of our dear friends, the Shropes, the night before we left on our European travels, and I persuaded Dave (a relative of theirs) to come visit. I'm not sure my family or his (with the exception of his sister who had been there for the childhood/teenage version of our friendship) knew what to expect of this reunion. But what they got was a front row seat to a knock down drag out between the two of us. My children were amused at first, then disturbed, and eventually they fled. Todd continued to chat with our friends as if his wife wasn't pinned under a full grown man who she was kicking in the head to be let go of.
As I related all of this to the friends at the pool, one of them turned to Todd and said, "Was that the weirdest thing you've ever experienced?"
Todd without missing a beat said, "Being married to Emilia? Ha! Um, no."
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