So yesterday the wife and I are sitting at the dinner table, eating dinner, while Noah sat in his swing making horrid faces, letting us know that he was going to need a diaper change fairly soon. I noted how his faces were so sudden: He’d be fine, then he’d look off into the distance and squench out a face of utter horror. I commented to Teresa how it looks like he’s one of those kids in a Japanese horror movie that can see dead people.
I should note that Teresa spent the two weeks following her first time watching “The Ring,” sleeping in her sister’s room, in her sister’s bed, with her sister. She did better after “The Grudge,” but I’ll attribute that to her ability to go home with me at that point. She once told me a story about how, after seeing previews for “White Noise” she almost misplaced a baby at work because she was dead set on turning off a radio in the Nursery that happened to be picking up a good bit of static. She’s a jumpy one, that wife of mine.
So needless to say, she doesn’t appreciate my comment about our son and his paranormal abilities.
Tonight as we went grocery shopping, he sat in the back seat, staring into his giant fish eye mirror, and Teresa commented at how she really thinks he’s looking at himself in the mirror. I told her he was probably just staring at the underwear clad Japanese boy sitting next to him.
Assailing glares ensued.
Marriage is awesome. Being responsible for a completely defenseless human being is awesomer.