Thursday, January 24

and this is why i love him

For your Thursday night, three Conlin stories...

1. A few Sundays ago we were sitting with my family, when Conlin casually let slip that he used to call his elementary crush, wait for her to answer, and then play various Celine Dion songs to express his feelings.  He never said anything, but felt confident she knew it was him.  
Oh, that image kills me.  I can just picture ten-year-old Conlin, with his bad haircut [bull-cut in front, mullet in back], nervously dialing her number with Celine at the ready.  Not to be overly saccharine, but--adorable, right?  I'm a little hurt he's hoarded this gem of a story for three and a half years of marriage.  

2. A couple days ago, my mom came over; when we heard the knock, Conlin leapt out of bed and pranced into the kitchen, "You answer the door, I'll scare her."  Obediently, I opened the door and let my mom in.  Because the prank wasn't premeditated, I didn't know what Conlin had planned.  As we walked through the kitchen I spotted the pantry door handle start to slowly turn.  My mom had almost cleared the door space when Conlin whipped open the door squeaking a high-pitched, "Gotcha!"  Except for the only thing he had gotten was my mom's elbow.  As she clutched her sore joint, she managed an, "Almost."  

3.  Preface: I don't cry a lot.  Really.  In fact, my students have yet to make me cry, which I view as an accomplishment of decent proportion [students if you're reading this--that was not a challenge].  But, last night I cried.  The details are not tremendously important [just me reacting to my cumbersome lockjaw issues].  Anyway, during my cry I noticed Conlin walk into the kitchen and tried to pull myself together.  From where I stood, I did a decent, if not praiseworthy, job reigning in the tears.  However, the following conversation took place later that night:

Conlin: "Man, you had a meltdown tonight."
Me: "Um.  Excuse me?  I think having my jaw clamp shut every time I work out justifies a few tears.  This has been building for a while."
Conlin: "You're a pretty cute crier."
Me: "I'm not, actually.  I've seen it."
Conlin: "Like, you had some good moves.  How you rested your head on the counter for awhile..." 
Me: "What??"
Conlin. "Yeah.  I watched you for a couple minutes before you noticed."
Me: "Wait, seriously?  You didn't."
Conlin: "But I kinda felt awkward after awhile so I kicked the wall so you'd notice me there."
Me. "Seriously? Babe.  I don't think it's normal to see your wife clearly suffer and then just stand there and watch."
Conlin: [too busy miming my apparent theatrics to respond]
Me: "I realize I'm laughing about this right now, but next time--don't watch.  Cause really.  That's a new kind of mean." 


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