But where is the fun with that?
So, the other day we went to see our friends Ryan and Kim at the hospital. Kim just had had their second little bundle of joy the day before, and Melissa is dying to hold babies, wants to support our friends so we headed up to SLC. After socializing a little, Ryan was leaving to go to his sister’s b-day party down the road at Training Table. So, I offered to help him take a few things down to the car. As we headed for the elevator, we were both holding the hands of his daughter Nora, swinging her in the air. As we got in the elevator, I kept holding her hand. (We have noticed with her, anything that interrupts that status quo is only remedied by hysteria…)
One floor down, a couple of nurses got on, and asked how old Nora was. Ryan responded that she was two. They said that she was just soooo cute. Then, the quote du jour, that WE, as in RYAN AND I, have done such a good job with her… Cute. Ryan and I.
Apparently the new politically correct rule is that when in doubt, assume the two dudes in the elevator are gay. The only way that I could think to respond without creating a fuss was to say, yes we have, and walk away from the elevator laughing.