Before I share what I did to my husband, you must know that he is the humor in my life. We have dumped buckets of ice on each other, set pops to go off in the bathroom, and yes, I have painted his nails in his sleep. So, before you judge my little prank, just know he is an ornery husband and he had it a long time coming.
Recently, Mike has been on a bacon spree. And I have, too often, found myself cooking up some greasy bacon. So, I decided to give him a good taste of bacon. Before he came home from work, I cooked the bacon and poured the bacon grease into his glass. When he settled into his recliner, I brought him a glass of “juice.”
I enjoyed the way he scrunched up his face in reaction to that grease. He had no idea what concoction I had just given him! It was an enjoyable moment.
My practical jokes are his fault. He IS the fun in our marriage. He has taught me that God wants joy in our life. And it IS good. Very good.
For some reason, I always viewed having fun as bad. Wasted time. Why should I enjoy my family if there are little kids on the other side of the world eating mud cookies, drinking dirty water, and cold with out appropriate clothing and shoes. How can I know that exists and still enjoy anything? For every ounce of my fun comes two ounces of guilt.
There is no reason my childhood should have ingrained those principles in me. I grew up in a solid Christian family. My family laughs. Especially my Dad. He has spent so many years fighting serious illness – feeling awful – but he always finds a way to laugh. The most hilarious story I have heard was when he ate a blue Popsicle and then told the nurse he had something wrong with his tongue.
And we spent lots of family time together. Our family camping trips are my very best childhood memories. I loved the summers we spent on Petite Jean Mountain running through the trails, playing basketball, and enjoying visits with cousins.
When Mike and I were still dating, it was easy enough to be all fun. That’s what teenagers are suppose to do. We went skating. I giggled. We ate dinner. I giggled. He showed off his flashy violin skills. I giggled. He called me. I giggled. He tickled me. I giggled.
Simple. Normal teenage stuff.
COME BACK FRIDAY FOR PART II OF A TERRIBLE CONCOCTION.