.. just about.
I take no credit. I don’t even comprehend the kind of staying power required to weather exchanges like the following. Guantanamo waterboarding has nothing on me.
Me: Do we want more children? I mean do you?
Me: Really? You’re a hundred percent sure? There is no teeny part of you that wants another baby?
Viking: (mild eye-rolling before settling for a steady gaze) Not at all.
Me: Why? How come you’re so sure?
Viking: Because its demanding. Because I like time for myself. Time for us. Leisure. Sleep. And because we have two lovely children.
Me: But are you sure its not me? Thats its the thought of having more kids with me that has put you off wanting more kids? Maybe if you were married to a less umm..complicated person, you would want more kids?
The Viking shoots me the kind of look that is somewhere between indulgence and irritation – and that you would normally reserve for a person with an IQ of 35.
Viking: No, I do not want more children. Not with anyone else. Not with you. Not even if you were to be normal suddenly.
Me: You said, “If”. There’s hope!
Viking: You being normal? We’re in no danger zone. (ducks to protect self from flying ceramic)
Me: (wistful) I’m not quite sure. I know I should be but I’m not.
Viking: You’re not? Gee, now there’s a shocker.
Me: C’mon, can’t you just be a little unsure with me? Gimme some company in my confusion?
The Viking mentally adds Emergency Lobotomy to his Christmas wishlist. And a neat scotch to put him out of his misery.
Secrets of happy couplehood? Sorry, try the next shop. We’re all out.