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"I'd love your Dad if he was just a run-of-the-mill nephrologist like me," I told him.
"Seems like if you wanted kids you'd want a younger husband," he observed, pulling a stocking hat over the top of the snowman's head. It didn't stretch enough to fit very well.
"Your Dad and I talked about that. I didn't want him to resent me for it later on. But he's assured me he wants to do it."
"Because he wants you," he said, turning to look at me. "I mean, I don't blame him. You're fucking gorgeous. I'd probably say anything you wanted to hear, too."
"Your Dad and I have more in common than you know," I said, my voice rising a little. "He's known that I want to have a child. That I want it to be his, because I love him. I never gave him an ultimatum about it, though."
"Would you be marrying him if he'd said he didn't want a kid?" he challenged me.
I hesitated a moment. "I love him. I can't imagine not being with him."
He eyed me for a moment and went back to the uncooperative stocking hat.
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