Those words were spoken at my dinner table last night. A friend of my wife's was over for dinner. She also happens to be our daughter's Godmother and, along with her husband, will be her legal guardians...until last night's revelation has made me second guess everything in the world.
We're discussing that next summer, my wife and I are likely going to St John for a week, and suggested that, if they can, they come along so we can get a better house to rent and have more fun. I said that the trip would be fine if you wanted to sit on a beach, drink a lot of rum and listen to Jimmy Buffett all day. That's when she dropped her bomb on me. Now, I'll cut her a little slack. She's a native of Ireland, and I don't know Jimmy's following over on the Emerald Isle. Nonetheless, she's been on this side of the pond for like 15 years and should know better.
So, do I let this slide? Do I tell my wife that she can never associate with such a heathen ever again? Do I allow my wife to see her, but build a firey trench around the house to keep her from ever visiting us and corrupting the malliable mind of my daughter whose fisrt words, if I play my cards right, will be "Salt...Salt...Salt..."?
I need help from the Parrothead faithful in my moments of crisis.
