Wife's Secret Weapon - 'Little Talk'
The wife has found my weak spot, and it is ‘little talk.’
Oh sure, there are other weak spots like when she cooks Italian style spicy pasta surprise, gives me long lasting and loving back rubs, and also when she power washes the driveway.
What exactly is ‘little talk’ you ask? Hard to explain really...imagine the voice of your spouse coming through the mouth of Barbie. Now make Barbie about an inch tall. A very small voice delivered at an elevated pitch and usually with pouty lips, a tilted head and widened eyes. It helps when you pull in your shoulders and your arms in an overall attempt to make the body seem miniature and very, very tiny. For some strange reason, it seems to have an interesting effect on MacDad and is mesmerizing and debilitating at every level of the senses. It also makes me smile and feel 5 years old again...and it works every time.
Not only does it make me smile, but it holds me in sort of a giddy-dizzy trance, powerless to run or have constructive or motivating thoughts of my own. Fuzzy bunnies jump out of the cupboards and bounce around while sprinkling bunny-butt sparkle dust that clouds my thoughts and liquefies my brain waves. Disco balls drop from the ceiling and ABBA’s Dancing Queen plays in surround sound while Oompa Loompas skate around in black velvet leotards. My vision becomes hazy and everything seems to move in slow motion; it is wonderful...tranquil...delightful.
She could tell me that the house is on fire in a tiny voice and I would smile and feel warm and fuzzy. She could alert me that a super asteroid is headed for our house and I would shrug my shoulders, blow a spit bubble and stretch out my arms for a giant sloppy hug. She could inform how she got a dragon tattoo, drained all of our accounts and is running away with Chis Hemsworth to Madagascar...as long as she said it in her ‘little voice’ I would grin and help her to the limo with her suitcases.
How on earth was I to know that ‘little talk’ only works on guys?
Knowing how the ‘little talk’ seems to make me goofy and dance around in a puddle of my own drool, I thought I would test out this valuable Jedi-style mind trick on my wife after my trip to Vegas with a trapeze artist named Lola. I came home and rolled up in my new 1968 classic Mustang GT with a 70 inch flat panel LED hanging out of the trunk and a pony named Gus in the back seat. I found my wife standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and her toe tapping on the concrete. Although she had set my XBOX, clothing, and Star Wars figurines on fire in the front yard, I was certain that I could employ the ‘little talk’ technique to melt her heart again and make her forget about the bad things I had done.
I prepared my face by tilting my head and pursing my lips with a silly grin just as I had seen her do at least a hundred times before. In my own ‘little voice’ I retold the story of the past week and how our savings and 401k all rode on red 23 at the roulette wheel before it was flushed away to oblivion. I was sure that by now she would be swaying back and forth as the Oompa Loompas skated around, but somehow she seemed to maintain a snarled-up, growl-face, death stare like that of a grizzly bear when it is about to clobber lunch. I told her it was all going to be okay because Lola was going to pitch in around the house and we would all be one big happy family and that we didn't really need money because we were all going to join the circus anyway. My understanding wife was kind enough to let me finish my story before blackening both of my eyes and sending me to the ground with a backhand from a skillet. She then informed me that ‘little talk’ only works on guys because we think it’s cute. Ladies on the other hand (apparently?), want to be talked to by a big, strong guy who is capable of protecting the family, using power tools frequently and doing plenty of lawn work around the house...I wish I had known sooner.
Lola left with my new Mustang, Gus and the TV...the doctor says the swelling will continue to go down in my eyes and in a few more days I should be able to see out of one of them.
Publisher's Note: The above is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents either are products of MacDad's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. :)
