It's Homecoming Season here in Northern Indiana.
Ours at my old High School was a week and a half ago.
Not really because it was Homecoming, but because football games are our kid's new social event of the week.
Oh, and because I was a past Homecoming Queen.
Yes, I'll admit it. It was pretty exciting 20 years ago when I was crowned. Back when girls wore suits and we rode around the track on vintage cars. It was 1991.
Just look at that early 90's hair! (I'm the one in the middle.)
It was a pretty exciting night! And it was cold, and very windy! My hair about engulfed me!
This year, however, Brent and I had a what you would call interesting, conversation before the game.
You see, before every Homecoming game he usually makes fun of me and asks if I'll be taking my crown this year.
My answer is always a, "NO!" with a giant roll of my eyes.
This year, he kept asking. I told him when Grace was little and went through her dress up phase, she broke my crown.
It's ok. I got over it. It's not like I was gonna wear it again anyway.
But this year, he persisted. He said, "Well, maybe I should go buy you a new one, and you can wear it!"
"Hey," he said, "Since you were Queen, I guess that makes me a King."
"Oh, no, my friend," I said, "The Queen of England's husband isn't even a King. You don't marry into the title unless you were already titled to be one."
"What!" he exclaimed.
Oh, yeah, Brent, you're just a commoner.
Really, I can't believe we even had the conversation, but weird conversations are nothing new for us.
So, that's your history lesson for today people, marrying a Queen will not make you a King.
How's that for a slap in the face!
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