I remembered a trip to the county fair a few years ago. My children were fascinated by the rubber baby duck stand.
You know the one... Where rubber ducks with Sharpie written numbers on their little yellow buttocks, circle the the continuos oval waterway, encompassing the gaming tent it inhabits...
Kids pick up the duck, look at the number on its butt and get a prize.
They have absolutely no idea what kind of prize they will receive, but they have extremely high hopes. It never matters what they get because it is new and a treasure...
It's kind of like having kids.
As Forrest said, you never know what you're going to get...
I know he was talking chocolate, but Forrest Gump was a pretty intuitive guy. I think he would agree with this comparison.
I mean, who can really argue with rubber ducks?!?
Now I am overjoyed with all three of our " picks". I cannot picture a better group or a better fit. But sometimes you watch your little waddlers twirl in circles or float backwards, bouncing off the tiny duck bumpers, alongside the stream, and wonder if it would have been simpler if the tattoo on their buttocks were a few digits different...
But with kids, you tend to take it in stride. The little yellow duck booth gives no promises or warranties. You know that going in. At best, it's a coin toss, trying to predict the personality and heart of the duck that you get...
The best thing is that there are no losers in the race.
You just have to find the rhythm in their waddle...
You study their wanderings, observe their grazing patterns and pay attention to the tone of their quacks.
And never let what you initially expected, overshadow the priceless you have...
It doesn't stop with the children. If you really stop to think about it, it kind of ties into your choice in a spouse...
I know. It is completely different with a spouse, your saying. You spent a LOT of time picking them out of that little stream. You studied them intently as they glided through the gently flowing roundabout, assessing how they reacted to the little turbulent areas of waves.
Your eyes never left them, circling and happily bobbing, as they traveled the watery course. At the right time, you picked them up and double checked that Sharpie stamp.
Of course, you had to be sure...
But after the popcorn was gone and you'de finished the cotton candy, you left the county Fair parking lot and headed home.
Sometimes both ducks stare at each other and wonder if there is some non chalant way they can re-check that Sharpie mark again... Make sure it's still the same...
Marriage is like that. You sometimes look confusedly at the duck you picked and see someone completely different.
And again, you find you have to find the rhythm in their waddle, because it's changed a little bit...
So you study their waddling, observe their grazing and pay a little more attention to the tone of their quack. You remember that you both are winners in this little race and never let what you expected overshadow all the priceless that you have...
My Wonderful Wife is not the woman that I married. I thank God every day for that. I adored and immensely loved who she was, but the woman she has become outshines the one she used to be, every single time...
Sometimes I struggle with the changes and the differences. Not because they're not better, because they certainly are. I struggle because they are different and different can be... different...
Does that make any sense?
I would pick that duck again, every single time...
I am not the same duck she originally picked. In some ways I hope I'm better. I hope when she non chalanty checks that Sharpie mark that still is legible on my buttocks, she smiles and says " Yep. It's still him"...
My crown feathers are a bit more scarce and the layer of fat between the flesh and pin feathers is certainly thicker nowadays. I still spin in tiny circles when I'm bored and bounce a little too freely on tiny duck bumpers, along the way.
I know she has had to work at it, at times...
Maybe, it's not work...Married to me, it probably is.
But maybe, it IS all in the symphony of the waddling...
Don't ask me. I still think my kids are ducks...
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