The Kind Of Wife I Want To Be

A couple of weeks ago, near Father's Day, Momma and I went out and did our thing.  By that I mean, we shopped and looked and bought and basically had a good time together.  On the way to take her home, after we got all the ingredients for a slumber party I was planning, she mentioned that she was hungry.  Which of course made me feel like a giant jerk, because I was buying ingredients for what turned out to be an amazingly light pesto lasagna.

Momma asked that I take her to Subway, which of course I did.  I figured we were getting her dinner, so I didn't think too much of it.  As I was checking where my slumber-party partner was on the road, I overheard her order dinner for my dad.  That made me check back in.  She listed everything he'd want on a sandwich.

Wow.  She knows him so well that she knows what he wants to eat.

A day or so later, I watched a Behind The Scenes of Oprah's final season, the one where she had Barack and Michelle Obama on the show.  The clip from the actual episode had to do with the (flamingly idiotic) birthers, and how the President had released his birth certificate.  He said something about how he thought it was funny, the whole situation about people thinking he wasn't American.

Michelle Obama said, "I don't."  The look of ferocious protectiveness was so very telling.

That's the kind of wife I want to be.