Every time I bring up the subject of our daughter eventually getting married (which is not very often, promise! like only when hubby and I get invited to a wedding), my husband gets a panic attack. I, on the other hand, get all excited (Our daughter’s 8; but don’t the years just fly by!). I mean, really, what mother doesn’t dream of her little girl’s big day and the many ways she can meddle in the prep help make it perfect?
I’d have the ideal son-in-law. He’d look like this:
And looking like that, of course he’d be a big action star in Hollywood (the wedding would probably be sometime in the 2030s so my future son-in-law would be, like, Chris Hemsworth’s and Elsa Pataky’s son – who’s already on his way into the world as we speak!).
Oh, and my future-son-in-law would also be a MD, like a cardiothoracic surgeon. No, wait. Too complicated; he might not have time for family. Neurosurgeon? No, too sexy; he’d get into all sorts of girl-trouble, like McDreamy does. A trauma doctor, maybe. Yes, that’s it.
And that would be just perfect because if he injures himself on set doing his own stunts (yeah, he’d be that cool), he could, like, do minor surgery on himself right there, barking orders to his personal assistant (who would be heterosexual, male, and also a nurse) like “Fetch me the microfibrillar collagen hemostat. Stat!” in a really cool way (I mean, not in a panicky way at all). And the microfibrillar collagen hemostat would be in his doctor’s bag, which is always close by, like in his trailer on set.
And he would absolutely adore my daughter and profess that he doesn’t believe in divorce. And they’d have really cute babies, blue-eyed and dark-haired (because they’d be part-Asian, part-Spanish, part-Australian), who would call me “G-mom”. And I would remind them to wash their hands frequently and load them up with sugar-free treats everyday – for the rest of my happy life.