We were going through our nightly routine. He was finishing up his teeth at the sink while I fired up the white noise machine on my side of the bed. “Tomorrow is Thurfry, wifentudenflorrick.” He said, a hint of singsong in his tone.
“Woot woot husbandry!” I answered, full on singsong.
Reading it in print might be a bit like trying to decipher Italian; you can pick up a clue here and there but you’re probably lost on the specifics.
This is the language of us.
We often wonder how alike other couples we are, or how different. I’d venture to guess that on a scale of in the same ballpark to from which planet do you hail we’d fall somewhere in the stratosphere. We’re fairly odd, I’d say. But then again, I do recall one of my friends recently owned up to this little gem:
“In the kitchen painting and a jam from way back in our clubbing days came on, so [husband] and I were dancing. He was throwing down all of his best moves when [daughter] walked in and said, “You look like an idiot dad.” Sounded like she was #teammom until she added, “You’re never going to get a girlfriend with moves like that.”
Not the same as weird nicknames, granted, but it definitely depicts the same level of playfulness.
Our current nicknames of choice have evolved from innocent enough beginnings. I started calling him ‘husband’ because, well he is. And he, in turn, took to calling me ‘wife’. That alone would have raised a few eyebrows on the wiretap, because it just sounds so formal and awkward but then we went and made it worse. I escalated to ‘husbandry’ and he tried to follow suit with ‘wifendry’ but I wouldn’t have it. Come up with your own nickname, I told him. Swiper, no swiping. And, it being the holiday season, he pulled something from memory: Jingle Bells, but not the English version. He focused on the version he had to memorize in his high school Spanish class. Juventud en flor (translation: blooming youth) was changed to Wifentude en flor. Go ahead and say it out loud. It’ catchy.
Oh, but there’s more.
We started watching The Good Wife on Amazon Prime TV. The main character’s last name is Florrick. And now, suddenly, I’ve become Good Wifentude en Florrick.
I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it amuses me. Life would be so boring if he just called me… ‘pumpkin.’
So what’s the verdict? Are we certifiable? Or is this fairly normal behavior for husbandries and wifentude en florricks?
PS. I’m including a picture because wiretaps are no fun without a visual. Here’s a glimpse of our glamorous life, dirty dishes and all.