Marriage is a tricky business.
Not that I’d know, necessarily, only having been married once and then for only a year, but still…
It’s easy to wonder as a divorced person – where did I get it so wrong?
Was it a fundamental clash of personalities? Different expectations of what married life meant? Was it because someone (not me – obviously) was in the wrong?
It’s a tough question to answer.
But at the age of seven, it seems Flea has got this marriage thing sussed.
This week, she’s been playing an imaginary game involving two soft toys – Polly (a gingerbread man) and Oscar (a dalmation). Polly and Oscar have fallen in love and they got married. The playroom became the church and Flea made streamers for the happy occasion.
There was even a honeymoon – although I can’t write about what happened in the sock drawer because, honestly, that’s between Oscar and Polly.
Of course, Flea wrote the vows. There were beautiful and showed a maturity and sensitivity well beyond her tender years. *cough*
For example:
I think that’s fair enough, you really ought to be sure before you marry someone. Personally, I was with Flea’s Dad for a good seven years before we got hitched, so I think I have that one covered.
But did I ever think to answer THIS question?
I confess, friends, I did not consider this issue before getting married.
Maybe that’s where I went wrong?
But – for the record- I STILL don’t kiss children in public toilets.
