Every few weeks I have the following conversation with some well meaning person…
“I saw your husband with the twins the other day at fill-in-the-blank class,” he or she begins.
“Oh my gosh. He’s so cute with them!”
“Yeah except –”
“He so hands on!”
“I know but–”
“In fact he was playing with a bunch of the children in the class. He’s like the pied piper!”
“You’re so lucky he’s so amazing with the kids.”
And finally I get to finish my sentence.
“I know. But that’s not my husband. That’s MY DAD.”
“Oh. (silence) Well, he’s really good with the kids!”
People please stop thinking I’m married to my dad. It wigs me out plus I have a great husband who is my age! Okay, 10 months older but you can hardly tell. Sigh…
Catherine Zeta-Jones must have the same problem with her dad Michael Douglas.
My friend Smeredith suggested I buy this for my dad…