You'd better watch out! You'd better not cry! You'd better not pout! I'm tellin you why - Mister M is comin' to town.... along with 20 or so of my family and their friends.
As we gathered around the table(s) to celebrate a few thousand buckle-shoed pilgrims living in wood huts way back when, I smiled at M over a deliciously fattening plateful of everyone's favorite holiday foods. he flew up to spend the weekend with my family and me, and what a brave soul he was! He handled my psychotic sister deftly, withstood my abrasive aunt's sarcasm, and made my mother melt with his culinary skills. Who could ask for a more perfect introduction to the family? I knew he was in like flint when mother asked him to make the gravy - she won't even let me in her kitchen.
The kicker, though, was when they giggled conspiritorily together around the stove.
Mother: "You know, you're welcome back any time."
M: "Madam, don't you think we ought to, at the very least, invite Mo out for dinner during my visit? It's really the least we could do."
Mother: "What for?"
Are mothers allowed to like the people we bring home with us more than they like their own children? Isn't there a law against that somewhere?
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