by Mark Ball
As I walked the card aisle searching for the perfect Valentine, I started reminiscing about my courtship with Leslie. It seems like it was over in the blink of an eye.
We dated for six months, were engaged for six months, got married and then all that silly romantic stuff took a back seat to the wild adventures of life together with a house full of kids. I can remember going to my parents to tell them that I planned to pop the question. They were excited for me and pleased with my pick, but they asked the question, “Are you moving a little too fast?”
“No!” I responded with confidence, but as I sat back on their couch for a moment to catch up on other news in the world, I had an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was I moving a bit too quickly?
Not a chance. I jumped up off the couch, headed right for the phone and dialed my soon-to-be mother-in-law. I stuttered my way through asking for her blessing on my proposal. She shrieked, and then there was an awkward pause. Finally, she spoke again.
“What’s her middle name?” she asked.
My puzzled look must have communicated clearly through the phone.
“You can’t be ready to marry her if you don’t know what her middle name is,” she explained.
How ridiculous! How insulting! Of course I knew the middle name of my beloved soon-to-be bride.
“Ummm… hmmmm… ummmmm,” I filled time while my head raced to think of her middle name. Does she really have a middle name? Is this some riddle that her mother had been planning since her birth? Finally, her middle name danced through my brain.
“Ummmm… Ann?” I said as if I was asking an uncomfortable question.
“You got it. I know you two will be happy together. Congratulations,” she answered.
Who can set a timeline on when true love is true? For my mother-in-law it was the middle name test that determined a perfect match. But for our children, how will I know when is the right time to give my blessing?
Sadie, our 5-year-old, was barely even walking when we realized that she would be that child. You know, the child you love dearly but you swear that if she had been born first you would have thanked God for giving you all that you could handle.
One summer afternoon I was sitting at the kitchen table going through a stack of work when Leslie came through the door holding tightly to Sadie’s hand. They took a few steps together toward me then Leslie stopped and firmly guided Sadie in my direction.
“Go ahead and tell Dad what happened,” Leslie guided.
Sadie’s head dropped straight down and her hands folded discreetly behind her back.
“What’s going on, Dear?” I asked trying to coax out a confession.
“I accidentally fell today at daycare,” Sadie said with a sniffle.
My jail warden stare softened up as I replaced it with a genuine look of concern.
“Are you okay, Sweetie?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Well then, that’s all that matters,” I concluded in a happy, family sitcom kind of way.
Sadie’s head popped back up in relief and she started up the stairs to her bedroom. She didn’t even get her foot on the first step, when her mother’s cold-as-ice voice chimed in.
“Tell him where you fell,” she led with all the cunning of a prosecuting attorney.
“On another boy’s lips,” Sadie said as her head dropped again and her legs scurried her up the stairs and into the safety of her room. I looked to Leslie for clarification.
“Twice!” is all Leslie said.
Apparently when confronted by a teacher for sharing uninvited affection with one of her classmates, Sadie explained that her sneaker got caught in a crack of the sidewalk propelling her forward and into the arms of a preschool prince. The kind and caring teacher went with Sadie’s explanation the first time, but the second coincidental love fall was a little hard to believe.
Our night ended with a talk about how it was too early in her young life to share such serious affection with a friend.
“But Daddy,” she protested while batting her eyelashes.
Try as she might, I was not hearing it. After all, she doesn’t even know the boy’s middle name.
