How I Met Your Father

I decided to write this post on the eve of Valentines Day, being that it is such a romantic tale (insert enormous choking guffaw).  Miss5 recently asked me how and when Daddy and I met, and how she met us.  Cringe-worthy cringe-filled cringe-tastic silence ensued.  For both parts of her question.

Firstly, neither Hubby nor I are mature enough to address the latter part of her question.  We are inherently juvenile in our collective sense of humour (because once you've been together for over 14 years, you do meld into one joint sense of humour - how else would you communicate / cope?!).  I imagine the conversation being punctuated with sniggering, guffawing, and the odd snort.  Plus lots of immature B Grade adult jokes that sail clear over Miss5's head.

In short, we would do a really crappy job of explaining the birds and bees and how Miss5 came into this world.  Plus she is just way too young for "that" talk.  Even if I could explain it in a manner that would do the universe and creation and all that stuff justice - I guarantee you she would not "get it", and would likely block me out after all of 10 seconds thanks to her puny attention span, and instead start thinking about what she feels like eating or what's at the other end of her belly button.

So instead I opted for the first part - how her father and I met.  Unfortunately, I didn't have an overly romanticised tale to tell, and ever the honest parent who tells it how it is - I gave it to her straight.

Mummy was possibly going to be set up with the Bass Player of the band at our regular Friday nightclub on that fateful night.  This was going to give Mummy much coolness credibility.  On the way to the nightclub, on a public bus, Daddy got on and started talking to some of Mummy's friends that he knew from high school.  Mummy and Daddy said hi and that was all.  No fireworks exploding, no visions of slow motion running along a windswept beach.  Just a public bus with our collective group of semi-inebriated 18-25yr olds and a few other random miscreants.  Highly romantic, right?

We stopped off for dinner - but not at a nice cafe or anything.  At McDonalds.  At this point Mummy overhead Daddy saying he was going to the same nightclub because he had won a $50 drink card for being best player at his cricket match that day.  Mummy - being fairly average at Math - took a minute to calculate this into 10 Bourbon & Coke.  Deliriously happy at the thought of a free night's drinks, Mummy smiled at Daddy.

The rest, as they say, is history.

The reason I decided to re-tell my epic love story on the blog, is because Miss5 has been to McDonalds twice since I told her this story - and she has taken to asking if anyone plays cricket.  She thinks that's how you get a free Happy Meal.  Because, as she told me, people who play cricket really good get free money stuff.  And she's hungry and wants nuggets.

Class breeds class.....