My husband is the head of our home, of course, which makes me the neck. This means that sometimes, when Daddy is being stern and/or unreasonable—in other words, when he says no—my children will come to me with this entreaty: “Turn the head, Momma! Turn the head!”
That’s my cue. I will wheedle and smile and flirt if I have to…and nine out of ten times, it works. The big strong man gives in to the little woman; he says yes; we get our way.
The kids are happy. Momma’s happy. It’s a good deal all around.
[Do keep in mind that many are the moments when I agree with my husband’s decision. In that case, the head—and neck—stay put.]
So tonight I was grilling some burgers out on the deck. The boys were playing football on the grass with their father; the girls were off picking flowers, and I was sipping my wine and feeling peaceful.
We Minnesotans like our summers, you know. We really, really do.
“Hey honey,” I called down to my husband. “What do you think about setting up the tent and camping out tonight?” It was mean of me to propose this in front of the children but there you go. I have my ways, too, of getting yeses.
He gave me a sweet, apologetic smile and said, “How ‘bout this weekend, after I’ve mowed the grass?” It was the smile that got me. It’s always the smile that gets me and he knows it.
I nodded agreeably and flipped the burgers.
Unfortunately, Cate overheard this exchange. She came moping up the stairs of the deck and slumped down into a chair. Her bottom lip stuck out slightly.
“What’s the matter, Sweetie?” Even as I asked, I knew the reason. “You wanted to camp out in the backyard tonight?”
She nodded solemnly.
“Well,” I said, feeling playful. “Turn the head!”
“I’m not the neck; I’m the feet,” she retorted sharply.
“And I can’t reach all the way up there!”
Ad Jesum per Mariam,