Mike and I stood over Jackson's crib last night, and stared at him in awe. We had one of those moments when we couldn't believe that we brought this little soul into this world. I mean, for heaven sake, we were dorky middle school kids when we dated, and while my hormonal self surely obsessed over having his baby, eventually, . . . I never thought it would actually happen.
As a typical 7th grader, I'd hand write (in beautiful cursive, adorned with hearts and flowers) his full name above my full name (last name "Thompson" at the time). The next step was to count the letters that we shared in the word TRUE and then LOVE. Apparently, the combined score revealed the percentage chance that you were actually going to marry this person. Ours was 58%. That is pretty low in the grand scheme of percentiles. I'm glad I didn't get discouraged and move on. Well, maybe I did. We broke up in the 7th grade after 2 months (a long term relationship by standards at the time).
But, our paths never fully departed from each other, and in high school we dated our senior year. Off to college, Mike's mother (now Grammie) would announce sternly and repeatedly "Don't YOU make me a grandmother, Michael." I was petrified of her. Little did she know, that she didn't have to worry. There was NO way we were passing first base, because I thought for sure I would end up pregnant by immaculate conception and then I'd be killed. First by her and then again by my parents.
But now, ohhhh how life has changed, hasn't it?
1 comment:
Michael should have been the one scared of me, but now it's the most wonderful feeling in the world to be a Grammie. Thanks you two. Love you...
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