It's a catchy name for a first post, I know. I've been meaning to start this for some time, but I'm so unsmart I can't remember to do it when I have time--which is quite a lot lately. Too many other things rattling around in my head lately, among them the arrival of a new baby boy who should be here in a couple weeks at the very most. Which leads me to the namesake of this title's post: my lovely wife.
There are few things in this world a man should not do in regard to a wife who is eight months (plus) pregnant, the least of which is tell her she looks fat. (That, of course, is a capital crime at any time in a woman's life, let alone during pregnancy.) Another very important rule is to avoid any use of the combination of letters "N" and "O", especially when it comes to food.
My wife, even when not pregnant, loves cold cereal. It's a constant in our marriage. The last several times we have gone to the store, cereal has been far from our list of things to buy. Nevertheless, it gets added to the list, generally after all the other shopping has been done. "Let's get some new cereal!" she hints. As my tongue, teeth and lips begin to form the unsmartest of all phrases--namely, "We don't need any."--I feel a sharp pain pierce my back between the fifth and sixth ribs. My breathing shortens, and my heart struggles to beat as her eye daggers rip through my flesh. "Sure, honey. What kind do you want?" I manage to force it out between painful breaths, overcoming my natural male tendencies. I'm unsmart, but I'm not that unsmart.
