Sonicing my husband into acceptance.
Last night, I was a good wife.
I introduced my husband to a new show, “The Colony”. I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner with garlic bread. I got my husband a beer when he asked for one. I carefully and lovingly put the leftovers in a plastic container that my husband could take to work for his lunch.
This morning, I was a good wife.
After asking my husband last night to wake me up so I could have the car today, I woke up without being grumpy. When my husband was in the shower, I did not bang on the door to scare him like I did the other day (man, that was a really fun morning, too). I agreed to wash his uniforms while he was at work, since he forgot to do it last night. I made him breakfast.
While he was eating breakfast, I poked around on Pinterest, to see what was newly pinned.
I found gloriousness pinned. Awesome, amazing glory pinned in the form of a sonic-freaking-screwdriver Wii remote. I clicked. It wasn’t just a Wii remote, y’all. It was a SONIC SCREWDRIVER Wii remote. WITH A DOCTOR WHO GAME.
Let that sink in.
A Doctor Who game. Sonic screwdriver remote. I’m pretty sure it makes “the noise” too.
All at once, all the fun I was going to have with this flash in my head.
I would become a female reincarnation of the Doctor. I would put on a bow tie and wave my sonic screwdriver at the TV and do all sorts of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff and save the world on an hourly basis.
My TV would turn into my own personal Tardis, zooming me around all of time and space. I’d get to yell out things like, “Come along, Pond!”
Basically, my life was going to be awesome.
My life was going to be complete.
Being a good wife, I wanted to share my joy with the Bagpiper — who, I would like to add has FINALLY started getting into Doctor Who. He started with series five (not one, like I want him too, but we’ll get there), and he’s really enjoying it.
So I do the only thing possible at this point. I turn around and squee, “OMG OMG OMG!”
Me: “There’s a sonic screwdriver Wii remote. WITH a game! I must have!”
At this point, I’m already looking around for my wallet and debit card.
And then, tragedy strikes my happy marriage.
I didn’t understand. Like, I really didn’t. I must have misheard him. Surely. I tell him again exactly what it is. Sonic screwdriver. Doctor Who game. Sonic screwdriver remote. Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff.
He was really saying no to this. After all the goodness of my wifeyness in the past 24 hours, he was saying no to me. He was saying no to our unborn child. Because surely, unborn baby would feel mommy’s euphoria in playing such a magical game.
It was time to take some drastic measures. I did sad panda face mixed with puppy eyes. I wanted him to know I was hurt. Emotionally scarred, even. I reminded him of the good things I’d done, like make him the breakfast he was enjoying.
I told him that I would play because it game with a sonic screwdriver. How could I not play?
I had to make him see that this was important.
I was flabbergasted.
What happened to my husband?
The one that loves me? The one that wants me to be happy? The one who re-enlisted into the military to provide for his family.
Doctor Who game with sonic screwdriver falls under the “providing for you family” umbrella. It’s even under “necessities”, just below “roof over your head” and just above “groceries”.
I tried one more time.
He had to say yes. My husband is a nice, loving, caring man.
He could say no to anything else, but not this. I was willing to give up yarn buying for a week! Book buying for a day! Anything to make him say yes.
Clearly, I did not marry the romance hero I thought. My kilt-wearing, bagpipe playing Marine husband was morphing into a Cyberman, deleting all my requests for this game and all my chances of happiness.
He became an Evil Husband of Doom.
So, I sat quietly for a minute, thinking of what to do next.
I came up with the perfect and most flawless of counter-arguments.
“It comes with a sonic screwdriver. So really, all your “reasons” are invalid. INVALID, I SAY.”
If I had a pair of gloves, I would have slapped him with them as if I were challenging him to a duel. Because I was challenging him. There is no argument better than “It comes with a sonic screwdriver.”
I had won. I knew it. And he knew it.
But he just rolled his eyes as if it were nothing and went back to his coffee.
Clearly, I have to play hard ball.
For now, I’ve “let the matter go”. My dog arrives tomorrow night, so it’s not like I would play the game this weekend anyway. Even if my dog wasn’t arriving tomorrow, mail takes like two weeks to reach me, so it’d be awhile before I could play anyway.
But mark my words…I will order this game and get the sonic screwdriver. I will be the female reincarnation of the Doctor and I will do wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff. Instead of saying, “Come along, Pond!” I will say, “Come along, Sushi!” because my dog will be here and she will be my companion, because clearly my “loving” husband has no desire to fill this roll.
And when the game arrives and my dreams are fulfilled, he won’t be able to do anything about it. Because games are like DVDs. Once you rip off the plastic wrapping you cannot return it. He will simply have to sigh and accept that I won. And if he can’t, then I’ll just sonic him into acceptance.
Take that, husband.
ETA: Somehow, I’ve gotten into my head that if I can get 100+ people to comment on this blog post, each comment will equal $1 my husband will have to put forth toward the purchase of this game.
I’m not sure if this will really work, but it’s worth a shot. Help a girl, out…comment. Share. Tell your friends to comment. Show my husband all the reasons that having this game is necessary.