There are few things that are more frightening than meeting your girlfriend’s mother–except maybe dental work without anesthesia. Thankfully, I did not have to meet my girlfriend’s mother. Instead, she met my mine.
Mom flew in on Easter Sunday (which isn’t even on my radar as a holiday–I opt for Thanksgiving, Christmas and the Fourth of July). Instead of chocolate bunnies and Easter egg hunts we marked the occasion by inviting my closest peeps over for dinner, which my mother graciously cooked. The usual suspects showed up–my friend Steve and his wife Missy, my friend Bernadette and, of course, my girlfriend Kailey.
Kailey was the first to arrive to Easter dinner (whatever that means). Even though she has a key to my front door, she politely knocked. She later told me she felt like she was walking into a job interview since she was on her best behavior and dressed for the part by covering every single tattoo she had on her body. She had spent hours mentally preparing herself to field unexpected questions without saying something completely idiotic, like Lloyd Dobler.
Kailey was in the interrogation seat for a whole fifteen minutes before the next guest arrived. But the weird thing is, she and my mom seemed to be getting along just fine. (The flowing wine helped, I’m sure). It turns out that my mom liked Kailey so much, that the rest of the visit she cooked enough food for an army and made sure we both were fed…and fed again. It was the kind of nurturing care for which even Jesus might have returned from the dead.