When Mr. Bean Shows Up at My Home

I find that I've somehow managed to marry a man with Bean-like qualities. Like Mr. Bean of the English comedies, Husband can display that delight and mischief that is charming and childlike and whimsical and playful. Thankfully, unlike Mr. Bean, Husband doesn't seem to possess a dark side that borders on cruel or sadistic.

The whole competition thing, though? It's there. Definitely.

For example, as I started this post, Husband knew I was listening to a variety of music on our cable TV channel. Carole King was on. Not to be outdone, Husband put on his own Carole King album and cranked it up louder than the TV--on the same song. "It's coordinated!" he said. I gave up and hit the "mute" button on the TV.

A little later I saw that Phil Collins was playing on TV, and pointed it out to Husband, turning the sound back on the TV. Husband knows I enjoy listening to Phil Collins. But you know who has to win tonight. We are now listening to Phil Collins belting out a tune--chosen from Husband's collection--at top volume on the stereo.

When Mr. Bean shows up at my home, it's time to give up and give in.

That Beanish competition thing is strong. Because of our various schedules, Husband and I sometimes end up at the same locale, each of us with our own car. If we leave at the same time, Mr. Bean shows up and it's suddenly competition time. Husband makes it a point to be back at home, parked in the garage, looking nonchalant as I drive in.

And then there's the play. Go to a store, and likely as not Husband will find something to play with. Although nothing will ever be as funny as Mr. Bean's Christmas escapade with the nativity scene, I'll never forget the time I spotted Husband dragging an 8-foot green stuffed animal crocodile around Costco. And yes, the crocodile went home with us. "For the grandkids," Husband said. Now you tell me: Did The Grands ever get the crocodile? Nope.Like Mr. Bean, my husband finds food entertaining. One time I cooked tomato macaroni for a Saturday lunch. Next thing I knew, Husband had his own plate artfully arranged as a landscape, ready for a slow dismantling while he chit-chatted his way through the meal. I do believe he is completely incapable of eating simple food servings. There must be additives, or some specific way of arranging it, or a new ingredient added for his latest "taste test." Note the green olives as additives to the macaroni I fixed for him. Luckily I don't take this as any indication that I'm thought to be less than perfect!

Like Mr. Bean, Husband pays attention to detail. On our honeymoon in Maine, he gave me one new thing each day, some little symbol of each promise in a set of promises he was making to me. It was all planned out and savored ahead of time. Frankly, I think he remembers the promises better than I do; what I remember is all the time and the careful thought he put into it--a harbinger of the way I'd be treated in the years to come.

If you've watched episodes of Mr. Bean, you know that he dearly loves his little Teddy, buying him gifts for Christmas and replacing his missing eyes. I'd say that I've felt even more blessed than Teddy, being loved by Husband and loving those moments when he gives me eyes to see something I would have otherwise missed.

Happy Valentines to my own funny, sweet Husband this week. I love you. I'm so glad you showed up at my home.