Pardon me while I indulge in christmas morning reveries from 1984. I was 5 months old and my mom was looking extra rosy, happy and perfect. My dad was wearing his knit hat and red suspenders (which he still wears christmas morning, 25 years later). I was wearing my first ever tutu with striped socks. Life was good.
Just look at my parents. They're so perfectly suited for each other in appearance, temperament and interests, it's mind boggling.
To this day, while he searches for horn handled knives in the antique store, she hunts for old bits of lace. He goes crazy for bonsais at the botanic garden while she's giddy over the ferns and moss. She plays the bowed psaltery while he's on the recorder. He's baking the bread while she's manning the omelet pan.
To this day, while he searches for horn handled knives in the antique store, she hunts for old bits of lace. He goes crazy for bonsais at the botanic garden while she's giddy over the ferns and moss. She plays the bowed psaltery while he's on the recorder. He's baking the bread while she's manning the omelet pan.
This fall my dad has started driving my mom to work in the mornings. Last week he was so excited because he bought them matching his and hers travel mugs so they could drink coffee side by side for their hour long commute. Painfully adorable.
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