Certain things strike a cord in my husband. The depth of my desire to pass this test seems to be one of those things. He is doing whatever I want to do because he is so frightened that I will have a nervous breakdown and he will have to go back to eating hot dogs for dinner every night.
I'll give you a couple of examples. Last night I wanted to go to The Cantina. Him--not so much.
K: But babe, I think I really need to go to The Cantina because I'm going to have a nervous breakdown.
Off we were to The Cantina.
When we got into bed last night...
K: That 3 watt light bulb around 3 corners and down the hall is shining in my eyes.
D: So why don't you get up and turn it off?
K: I'm going to have a nervous breakdown.
Off he was to turn the light off.
K: My hands smell like fajitas still. And I washed them.
D: Maybe you need to wash them again.
K: But I'm having a nervous breakdown. Can't you get me a wipe?
Off he was to get the wipe for my hands.
It's wrong, I know, but it is so good. The last time I had this much power is when I failed the exam and he almost, almost let me name the baby.
K: I'm such a loser (while sobbing hysterically). Can we name the baby Ian?
D: (stunned and desperate to make the waterworks stop, but mortified that we could have a lifetime with at Brit-sounding baby name) Uhhhhhh, ok??????
At that moment I realized the extent of my power and that maybe even I needed to have limits. Thus no Ian, but Ethan.
I wonder if I cried if I could get a new car?