Back when I was single (in my teens, mind you) I had this perfect ideal for who my husband would be, I didn’t pick thin. Nope, I wanted one bigger than me – by a lot. I did not have any desire to rival my husband for size – or worse yet, beat him hands down. But personality and values and beliefs trumped size – thankfully – and I married a man who barely outweighed me. And then I got pregnant. Six times. He didn’t leave me a whole lot of growing room before the inevitable happened. But Sterling informed me yesterday (after he asked how much I weighed and I told him that he must never, never ask a lady that question. And then I had to explain what a lady was.) that Daddy weighs lots more than me, because he’s bigger. I agreed – that must certainly be true. Blaine walked in right then, caught the gist of the conversation, and agreed Sterling was most certainly right. Wise man.
Have I ever mentioned I was going to marry a redhead? That didn’t work out so well either. I’d planned for a bunch of redheaded babies. But these blond ones are awfully cute. Turns out, God had different plans than I did – better ones for sure. I’m so glad. So thankful for my blond, thin husband. So thankful.
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