In 1993, a girl managed to do what no other girl could and that was to steal my heart closely guarded heart. Between the winter and spring quarters of college, we married in a small chapel with friends and family in attendance. We settled into a small apartment after a brief honeymoon. First day living in our first home, I called her boss. “I am not the boss, we are in this together,” protested out of her mouth.
When we finished the spring quarter with a few more times her objecting to being called boss, my mother invited us over for lunch. Mom prepared sandwiches as we talked about our new life together. My father’s footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the house as he came down from his office. “What’s for lunch, boss?” nonchalantly exits his lips.
My wife stared at me knowing why I called her boss. At that moment she accepted her position of boss in the house knowing it came from a long line of men calling their wives boss.
Fast forward nearly twenty-nine years later, Ginger, our dog, likes looking out the patio window to express her Karen indignation at the neighbor’s dogs, two houses down. Before spotting the desire of her ire, I yelled at her, “What is the rule of looking out the door?” Answering my own question, “Don’t”
“Oorrrnnn-rooo-noooo” or translated to English, “I was doing no such thing and you can’t prove I was.”
“You certainly were searching for a reason to bark your head off.”
“Narnnn, rrrrooooonnn,” which means “I was just looking.”
“Take your furry butt upstairs before you get into trouble.”
She runs off in a huff to see the boss of the house. My wife comes down a couple of minutes later and asks, “Why did you yell at her?”
“First, I didn’t yell but spoke firmly. Second, she took a peek out the window to bark at the neighbor dogs.”
“Oorrrnnn-rooo-noooo” came two steps behind mom with a Karen-like smile on her face.
Addressing my four-legged child, “So, you went and complained to the boss telling her lies hoping to get me in trouble?”
Even our dog knows who the boss in our house is.
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