Tuesday, March 15, 2011

I'm married to an Indian woman

I am. 

For reals.

I just learned it myself, have to admit I was a little shocked.

On Christmas morning, no less.

You see, my husband, the one who is apparently an Indian woman, gives me very little input about Christmas presents.  But the input he gives is the kind of information that I am supposed to absorb completely.  Those are the kind of directions meant to be followed.

If he wants to get the kids something, he really wants to get the kids something.

Well, more correctly...if he really wants to get the kids something, he really wants me to get it for them.  Regardless of how hard it might be to find the item, how long it's going to take me to find it.  Then he basks in the glory of the gifter, taking lots and lots, dare I say all, the credit for the idea.

This isn't a new phenomenon.

But I don't bother fighting the issue since he gets so damn excited about the things he wants to give them.

And, to give the guy credit, he is almost always right on.  The thing he picks the hit of the day. 

Seeing his kids all excited makes him all excited, and that makes it all worthwhile.

On the very short list of things he wanted to give the kids this year?

Just Dance 2, the video game.

They all wanted it.  Except maybe AJ, who has no idea quite yet about all the things he can't live without.  He is content with a box and a container of play-dough still.  He's still young enough to be clueless.  And cheap to please.   I love that about toddlers.

If only kids could stay that way.

Sorry.  I got distracted there for a second.

Back to the game. 

So they wanted it, and he wanted to get it for them.  And I found it online finally after looking without luck for weeks in the stores. 

Christmas morning, they opened it and wanted to play it almost immediately.

By the way, that's how you can tell if your present doesn't suck.  If they toss it into the pile of stuff and head for the next gift immediately, you fail.

We made them wait until everything was opened and the trash picked up, of course.  Because we are mean.

Plus, it would be really hard to dance climbing over piles of wrapping paper.

Or the pile of discarded gifts. 

So they started playing, and for a while Tom sat and basked in his gift-givers-glory.  Until the real reason he wanted to get the game for them became obvious.

I should have figured it out sooner. 

I should have remembered that night when someone put a quarter in the Dance Dance Revolution game at Dave and Busters all those years ago.  Oh, the man can gather an audience.

In his defense, he was really drunk that night.  And he can shake it when he's had a few beers in him.

But he wasn't drinking on Christmas morning.  

He danced to a few songs with the kids before he got all serious competitive like.  Mastered the Ke$ha dance and the Rihanna song.  Then he scrolled through the song list a little further to the obscure stuff in the back. 

And picked this.

Katti Kalandal

About a minute into the song, I realized that my husband was clearly an Indian woman. 

All these years I have been misled.

Man, can he dance like a Bollywood diva.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Some of My Most Popular Posts