I’m From the Congo…???

The first time I met my husband, was on our first date. We had been matched online, and I hadn’t wanted to go on a date with any of my other matches — and found some of them a little stalkerish (one man I never met, but spoke on the phone with once seemed to be planning his wedding to me), but I decided to take a chance with Chris.

Chris seemed really normal, and like he might be a lovely person. The first few minutes of our conversation reinforced my online impression that he was a stable, likable guy. Then, very fair skinned, clearly American Chris told me he was from the Congo, and it registered that I was on a blind date with a man who was likely mentally ill.

Further explanation revealed that Chris’ parents had been missionaries, and he did spend his early childhood in Africa (I even learned he has a scar on his foot from the day his 5 year-old self thought it a good idea to wield a machete). It was good to know the person I was with didn’t belong at the funny farm. A successful first date.

Fast forward a few years…

Our daughter, Lainey, likes to climb things. She’s smart, curious and high spirited. Chris blames my — snowboarding, soccer playing, fun loving — self for Lainey’s all encompassing need of adventure. Recently, our daughter discovered this wonderful enterprise…















“She’s her mother’s daughter,” Chris smirked.

“Says the five year-old running around with a machete.” I retorted.

We looked at each other and the realization hit… Lainey has this in her genes from both sides… we’re doomed!!!

Oh, yeah… one of us should probably get her down…

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