Meet the Parents

Last Saturday I reached another relationship milestone, possibly more important than a first trip to Ikea.

Meeting the family of your significant other is surprisingly nerve racking. Would they like me? Was I dressed appropriately? Would I say something stupid? Would they disapprove of me being Australian? And more importantly, would the boy decided halfway through that actually it wasn’t going to work?
My fears of course were unfounded, the family, were in fact lovely and normal, and if the conversation was at any time slow it wasn’t awkward.

One problem that may become an issue though is that I just couldn’t keep up with them. Whether it is just this family, or all Northerners, but by midnight I had well and truly had my quota of food and drink and would have liked to have retired quietly to bed. However, my bed for the night was Mr W’s sister’s couch, which at the time was occupied by a giant Rottweiler called Duke.

Despite feeling incredibly rude, I could not help myself and began to snooze quietly, somewhat hidden behind the boy to save face. Alas, I do fear that this may have lost me the all important seal of approval, but as Mr W said, “this time next year you’ll be able to keep up”.

Here’s hoping so!