Sometimes I have a hard time remembering that The Wedding Date’s kids aren’t six-year old girls. You know: the kind I teach on a regular basis? The kind who love stories and stickers and the color pink? The kind who think I’m cool and raise their hands in class to tell me they like my earrings?
It’s not that I don’t like The Wedding Date’s kids (or mind the fact that they don’t notice my jewelry), it’s just that sometimes I wish they were six-year olds girls. It would make life much easier. Especially the holidays.
I’m spending Thanksgiving Day with The Wedding Date’s family and on our way down to Hooper’s Island this past weekend I had what I thought was a brilliant idea.
“We can make an apple pie!”
“An apple pie?”
“Yes! Me and your kids. And we can bring it to your parents’ for dinner. Your mom will be so impressed!”
“No! We could do it! Apple pies are easy. Heck, I made them in college!”
“I don’t doubt your ability to make pie, Nena. But my kids? Can you picture them making apple pie?”
Actually I could. I could picture all of us standing there in the kitchen, covered in flour and chatting about the virtues of Macintoshes vs. Granny Smiths, smiling beatifically like they do in the Pillsbury commercials. The kids wouldn’t be into it at first—they’d be all like “Apple pie? Do we have to???” but the end they’d be so proud of their accomplishment that they’d end up fighting for the honor of presenting it to their grandmother and the pie would end up crust-side down in the front yard as a result of the scuffle but it wouldn’t matter because we’d be making memories together.
So maybe I was being a bit unrealistic.
I gave up on the apple pie but a few minutes later, I had another brilliant idea.
“Yeah, I was thinking of getting them marshmallow blasters for Christmas.”
“What do you do with them?”
“Ummm… you shoot marshmallows. Yeah. The mini ones. My brother and I used to have a set.”
TWD paused to consider the matter but it didn’t take me long to figure out what he was thinking.
“You’d never them they play in your house, would you?”
“But it’s not just that, Nena,” he continued, placing his hand over mine. “My kids are going through the phase where they’re ‘too cool’ for anything. Those things aren’t cheap and I don’t want you to spend all that money on something they might think was lame. You’d be disappointed.”
So no apple pies. No marshmallow blasters. What other options do I have?
Something tells me this is out of the question as well:
And this too…