We are speeding down the road and I have already checked my
watch five times. The kids have been shouted at three times in the last fifteen
minutes and because I am not driving, I am monopolizing the business of
shouting. When post one scolding, the irrepressible six-year-old starts off
with yet another question, hubby, who believes he can handle this better than I
can, tells her quickly, “Don’t talk to your mother. Talk to me! Talk to me!”
We make it to the venue of the wedding with half an hour to spare, thanks to a gross miscalculation, on my husband’s part, of the time required to get there. However, when I step out of the car, feeling like a flamboyant success, this detail seems to be utterly inconsequential. What is of cosmic significance is the fact that we have made it to a wedding – ahead of time. I beam at my cutiest, beautiest, spousiest spouse. We are a team. We did it. Nothing can stop us now.
