Here's a glimpse into the life of your mother and me from a December afternoon in 2008:
Charles and I were in Foxboro, attending the last Patriot home game of the year, and your mother was at home, more than eight months pregnant with you. A snowstorm was dropping about a foot of snow on us making driving condition atrocious and the game less than comfortable to watch. Later, I would later be heavily criticized by mamsy pamsys and worry worts who thought my decision to attend the game in dangerous driving conditions was foolish and misguided.
During the game, your mother and I exchanged a series of text messages. I thought that they provided an interesting account of how your mother and I communicate at this point in our lives. Here they are, unedited:
Mommy: Just went upstairs to find two huge mounds of cat vomit on the rug. Finding him less endearing.
Mommy: Actually, make that three.
Me: Sorry honey. Weather getting worse. What’s it like in CT?
Mommy: Weather not bad. Cat in jeopardy.
Mommy: My back is now killing from cleaning up after the cat.
Me: So sorry, honey, but “cat in jeopardy” very funny.
Mommy: Glad you think so. Retaining my humor through my rage.
Me: Still funny. Charles thinks so too.
Mommy: Cat doesn’t think so.
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