Dear Future Husband,
Remember that time I introduced you to my mother? Well, given that tax day is RIGHT around the corner, I think it’s time that you also met my dad. (And no, contrary to what you MIGHT be thinking, I do NOT call him father. Yeah, yeah…I know. “Mother and Dad” doesn’t easily roll off the tongue but, WHAT in these letters leads you to believe that I do ANYTHING conventionally?!)
Anyhoo, I chose tax season for this particular introduction because my dad is a tax attorney. Why in the world anyone would choose to practice tax law is COMPLETELY beyond my comprehension. But, I’m glad he did, and I’m glad he does. I’m glad because, I DON’T HAVE TO DO MY TAXES!
I mean, yes…I have to PAY them, but I don’t have to DO them. He (lovingly) does them for me. You know the “Freedom” chorus from Arthea Franklin’s hit Think? Yep…that’s my anthem this time of year.
But, I hope you recognize what this really means. Once we’re married, YOU will NEVER have to do YOUR taxes again EITHER! Just let that sink in.
Now, I need something else to sink in. But first, get ready for a story…
When I was very young, Disney’s A Little Mermaid debuted in theaters. EVERY SINGLE LITTLE GIRL immediately fell in love with Ariel and life under the sea. Except for me. And Sheesa. Why, you ask? Because we weren’t allowed to watch it.
Let me reiterate: WE WERE NOT ALLOWED TO WATCH A G-RATED DISNEY ANIMATED MOVIE.
You see, Ariel disobeyed her dad. And that was not ok.
I vividly remember VOLUNTARILY sitting OUTSIDE of the gymnasium during carpool pick-up because the BAPTIST Mother’s Day Out program that I attended played the movie while the other kids waited. I wanted to be part of their world, but instead, I stared at the wall. Gosh I was a good child.
Obviously my lack of obedience problems can be attributed to the fact that I did not see the movie until I was mature and non-impressionable. I think my dad finally saw the absurdity of the mermaid ban because he granted me viewing permission in my 25th birthday card. Phew…glad I got the OK.
The moral of the story:
I’m a big girl now. While I definitely want his blessing, I don’t NEED his permission to get married. But YOU do. So, I’m going to be 100% clear. Before you ask me, ask him. I promise he won’t make you wait 25 years for the OK.
PS. In the event that you are a CPA or a tax attorney (which is highly possible since girls often marry men like their fathers), the above “you’ll never have to do your taxes again” spiel will not apply to you. Sorry.