“I’m not going to marry you,” Henry announced this afternoon. He wasn’t threatening me (as these comments sometimes come across). He was just speaking plainly.
“Well I’m already married anyway,” I explained, “I’m married to Daddy.”
Henry looked at me, his wheels turning.
“And anyway,” I went on, “you can’t marry people you’re related to.”
I could see this gave him extra food for thought.
“Like Lucy?” I said, referring to one of his favorite people on the planet, “You can’t marry her because she’s your cousin.”
“Oh great,” said Henry in frustrated disappointment. “Then who should I marry?”
“That’s something you need to ask God about, to see who he thinks you should marry.”
I suppose this is where I could have also delved into theories of attraction and animal magnetism, but the concept of trusting the Lord is ultimately the one I want to drive home between now and whenever my boy begins to seek a spouse.
“What about Annabel,” Henry asked. Ah Annabel, the sweet little blonde from preschool who sports the biggest hairbows you’ve ever seen. “Could I marry Annabel?”
“You could,” I said.
“But where would we live? Could we live here?”
I started to explain this is the part where you getting your education so you can provide for your family comes in, but I didn’t have a chance. Henry was already working out the details.
“She could sleep on my floor,” he said thoughtfully, “so she should pack her sleeping bag. What else should she bring?”
He started making a list, counting off on his fingers the things his future bride should pack.
“She will need a sleeping bag… toothbrush… jammers…. playclothes…. And clothes for school, right?”
And then Henry turned his attention back to his movie and that was the end of his plan making for the moment.