Before I met my husband, Rob, I didn’t believe in miracles.
Now I do.
In honor of our 5th anniversary today, I wrote up a whole mushy post about what a miracle it is that we finally found each other, the miracle that is our life together, and the miracle of building a family…but I think I’ll just print that out and give it to him as a gift since I don’t have anything else yet. Don’t worry – I’ll roll it up like an ancient scroll and tie it with a fancy bow. It’ll be nice. I swear. He’ll like it.
So instead of posting that, I’d like to highlight how much he makes me laugh. Because this is how we have spent the majority of the last 5 (total of 6) years together: laughing. Maybe these tidbits won’t translate or maybe they will, but for those of you who don’t know him, he comes off as a kind, intelligent, mild-mannered, well-behaved guy. A pillar of normality. And he is these things but he’s also an A-1 Goofball. He thinks I’m funny, but really I’m just trying to impress him and keep up…For example:
Cheesy overhead music will cause him to briefly bust out enthusiastic way-too-funky dance moves in any store, crowded or not: at the A&P by our house, Staples, Home Depot etc. In response, people giggle, or ignore the performance and walk around him to reach the grapefruits, or they look at me like, “huh?”
If we wants to make sure you order him the right kind of croissant at the coffee shop after you hop out of the car, he will yell shamelessly and emphatically across several lanes of traffic with a slightly nasal voice, “ALMOND! ALMOND!” so that it sounds more like, All-min! All-min!
If you’re down in the dumps and talking to him on the phone, he’ll try to cheer you up/distract you by asking, “What outfit are you wearing?” as if you are a six year-old fashionista with a new party dress. He’ll listen as if he’s fascinated then ask even more details about the color of your shirt or the pattern of your socks until yes, you forget why you were in a bad mood. After all, you are wearing another pretty good outfit…
He can sing the following songs on demand and with abandon: Elvis’s “Let me be Your Teddy Bear” (complete with full, uncanny impersonation); any song from the hit Broadway sensation Orphan Annie (courtesy of his sister Marcy), any song from Fiddler on the Roof, and…also, wait for it…the musical 1776.
He’ll walk across a busy NYC intersection kicking up his knees and his elbows wildly as if he’s the Grand Marshal of the Silly Parade. The more I cover my eyes and the more I try to hide, the higher his long limbs fly.
Finally, he’ll put just about anything on his head. Like this:
We can’t forget about this newborn hat:
Happy Anniversary to my favorite goof! Thank you for cracking me up and making this life and this marriage more fun than I could have possibly imagined. Oh, and thanks for letting me post these anecdotes with the accompanying pics. Heart Heart Heart.