- He arrives wearing a T-shirt that says “Relax, I’m hilarious.”
- He asks me if I’m going to breastfeed my baby until he’s like, twelve, and old enough to stand on a stool while doing it. I just said…probably not [but if I did, why the fuck should you care?].
- He chooses where we have dinner, then complains that he can find nothing on the menu that suits him, then demands that we go for ice cream afterward. AND WE DID.
- He tells anecdotes about Republican-leaning campaign crap: “Vote Romney 2012: He’s White.” [BLINK. BLINKBLINK.]
- He apparently signs my husband up to receive promotional mail/free sample things from Depend. Yes, the incontinence undergarment. I don’t even ask.
- He asks if I had ever seen anyone with such skinny legs yet such a [sound effect] abdomen, referring to my MIL’s friend and travel companion. When I say I really hadn’t noticed (complete honesty – am I supposed to notice that or something?), he describes in further detail how he really doesn’t think he’s ever. seen. anyone. with such drastically contrasting upper and lower body types.
- He uses the word FUPA. I pretend I either don’t hear it or don’t get it, and don’t ask for a definition. Thankfully, he obliges.
He’s not all bad, that’s for sure. He can be very generous, and maybe it’s just my problem that I always assume strings are somehow attached. Apparently he took Mike grocery shopping, which frankly (and embarrassingly) helps a lot right now, and he did pay for dinner, too. I don’t mean to be so harsh about him…well, okay, most of the time I do mean to, but I probably shouldn’t. He’s just like your old racist uncle. You know you can’t convince him to be reasonable or respectful, so you try to just ignore it as much as you can. Terrible strategy? I don’t know. I’m just hoping he doesn’t start harassing us about a baptism and being the baby’s godfather (because I’m sorry, now THAT’S hilarious).