Musing on Men: Why Mine is Better than Yours

Ladies...(and I address the ladies because it is exceedingly doubtful that any man reads this, including my own AND you must imagine that I am talking as if we are sharing a cup of tea, 

sampling cake, and wearing fine dresses, with parasols by our sides) 

It is not a new thing to get a compliment on my husband.  Oh yes, he is a great Man Child, and does not volunteer to clean the toilets, and frequently falls asleep during church, but that is what I call Charm.  You know, Charm, right?  The things that children and husbands do that are most bothersome, but no one is brave enough to tell you to your face, so they say they have "Charm".   I myself am guilty, and I apologize  if I have told you that you or your children, or your dog are full of Charm.  If you feel the need to take offense, then consider that I would never tell someone they had Charm, if I didn't have a special place in my heart for them.  It is almost pre-requisite.  And don't worry, if you haven't measured up yet, you will.  I have the ability to find Charm anywhere, for Charm adds variety, and I like variety.


Now back to my Charm.  I recently received a lovely compliment on how my husband helped me during a moment of distress, of his own accord.  Indeed, he saved me from having a complete emotional breakdown in the presence of everyone we know.  Instead, I was able to carry on in the bathroom.  Thank you, Dear !  It could only have been better if he had handed me an handkerchief as he swept the babe from my skirt.  I accept these compliments, like I am the deserving recipient of them.  Of course, the Man Child is the one who should be receiving them, and I always pass them on, and he is very humble, and even more deserving in my eyes.  I find that I am overwhelmed by how he helps me; I, an awful hormonal creature who often makes his life so much more stressful.  He takes me as I am, and knows what will get me where I need to be, he occasionally admits that I am right, he puts the boys to bed, and has amazing biceps. 


I have found that I am, perhaps, proud.  Indeed, I have noticed that he has competitors.  He is no longer the hands down winner of this non-existing competition.  I informed him of this, and he was shocked.  Shocked that there was such a competition going on within my brain.  In the end, he was not surprised, for even though he swears he will never understand me, he definitely knows me.  He is racing, he just doesn't know it, and though he may not win, I suppose, I am just glad that he is in the running.