Twinkle: Sunday Night MIL Report

So, because my in-laws demand not one but two nights each weekend, we found ourselves at a godforsaken Beef O'Brady's on the edge of the universe tonight. And when Mr. Twinkle's cousin's children began to bicker, MIL took the opportunity to comment on the perils of having more than one child. She put it in the context of one of Mr. Twinkle's college friends, Amy, who has a son Twinklette's age and is once again with child. But we all know who the real targets of the comment were.

Kids: (bickering)

MIL: You should take a video and send it to Amy. (Um...why? At this point it's too late for Amy, unless someone just wanted to rub it in her face about what she's gotten herself into).

Me: (sweetly feigning confusion) You had two children.

MIL: Yeah, well. I spaced mine apart.

Mr. Twinkle: One of them was a mistake.

MIL adamantly denies that my sister-in-law was a mistake, and yet Mr. Twinkle and his sister both remember the exact spot in Ruby Tuesday's where the revelation was made. Tonight Mr. Twinkle called his sister about something else, and brought up the bickering and what MIL said (leaving out the eventual direction of the conversation), and my sister-in-law said, "Mom never wants anybody to have more than one kid. Even I was a mistake." But revisionist history is SO my MIL.

She was also talking about having to go to the Immediate Care Center because of a reaction to some medication this morning. She had people coming over for brunch and had to go to the doctor instead of cooking everything and getting it on the table. So my father-in-law really came through and cooked everything, and my MIL got home just in time for the guests to arrive. I think that's pretty darn fabulous of my father-in-law, and if that had been Mr. Twinkle, I would have made a big deal about how he saved the day and was the best husband ever, and what he made was the best d*mn creation in the history of breakfast casseroles.

Of course, MIL couldn't bear to give the man any credit. He smiled proudly as he told us the story, and all the while she was tearing him down, rolling her eyes, and saying, "Now wait just a minute...I was on the phone with you the entire time telling you exactly what you needed to do." Just let the man have his moment in the sun! Or, better yet, how about an old-fashioned "thank you"?