Last weekend, we got to see a couple of our friends get married here in Ohio. It was a wonderful reminder of love and the privilege of marriage. Except for the part where Kyle and I bickered the entire drive between ceremony and reception.
“Kyle…the speed limit is 65.”And then Kyle kept ruining pictures by putting balloon strings…in his mouth (???) Marriage is a privilege, marriage is a privilege…I repeat to myself as Kyle tries to ditch his suit jacket for the sixth time after leaving the church.
“Just let me drive!!”
“Seriously, slow down. You’re gonna get pulled over.”
“Will you stop nagging me? Ugh, why is this jacket so hot and itchy?”
“Stop messing with it, you look good!”
We stopped fighting long enough to take this picture and to dance to House of Pain during the reception. Marriage is a privilege.
It’s taken eight years but he finally has given in and let me dress him in grown-up clothes. Shirts with collars and belts that match his shoes. Shirts with yellow accents that complement my cardigan. Shirts that don’t have pictures of dogs farting on them or band names on the back. Marriage is a privilege, marriage is a privilege…he must repeat to himself as I force him to tuck his shirt in. Again.
Can anyone relate?