Little Women: Not a Book Review

I've shared with many of you my theory that every man needs a Little Woman inside his head. Just a teeny, tiny woman in the corner of your brain. A woman to give you the advantage we women have: intuition.

This woman would have a pretty simple role. She'd be the reminder you need from time to time. "Hey," she might gently suggest, "It's your mom's birthday next week. Why don't you go ahead and send a card?" Or, "How about you make dinner tonight? Your exhausted wife would appreciate the gesture." Or she might quietly reprimand you when you stare at certain body parts of a woman...a woman who isn't your wife.

The most significant job this little woman would have is this: she would do everything in her powers to SHUT YOU UP. You know, before you say that one stupid thing. The one that puts you on the couch for the night. The one your wife calls her mother about.

The one that your wife blogs to her friends and family about...

So, today Ike, Annie and I all went to Bangkok Cafe for lunch (very yummy, very cheap). We drove through UNCG to get back downtown for Ike to go to work. I suppose it was the Spring Dress Code at UNCG (you know, all those girls in very little clothing) that made him say this. Or maybe it was the Devil. But I assure you it wasn't his Little Woman In His Head.

"You know, I should have been a firefighter," he said, referring back to the fireman graduation he'd filmed that morning.

"Oh yeah?" I asked politely (but with my Woman's Intuition, knowing this would not go well for Ike).

"Yeah," he answered (Does anyone else hear a Little Woman screaming??). "Because all those firemen today had their wives and girlfriends there. And they were like supermodels."

I hear you, ladies and Woody. And Dad. You're all yelling at the computer, "Oh no he didn't!" Some of you may even be doing a finger snap or two.

But yes, he did.

His Little Woman? Must be dead.