Rebecca: I cannot believe we are this late, husband. Mr. and Mrs. Petershwim are probably already at the restaurant!
Erik: Perhaps thou shouldn’t have changed thy dress eight times, Rebecca.
Rebecca: As if thou hast any room to talk! I saw thee change into at least four blue shirts before that one!
Erik: Forgive me, dear wife, thou art right. Vanity was overtaking us both. We are not too late and the Petershwims are pretty laid back, so it’s not a big deal.
Rebecca: Yes, we’re just being silly. The Petershwims will not mind.
Erik: Now, I need to bringeth up one little point of concern before we meeteth up with them…
Erik: Art thou planning to tell the story again about my stool sample?
Rebecca: If the mood strikes, husband. It’s a killer story.
Erik: I find it to be personally embarassing.
Rebecca: Okay, then. I will try not to tell it, but I really can’t make you any guarantees. Perhaps if you show them that funny way you stick out your stomach like a pregnant lady, that would be enough.
Erik: I hate doing the pregnant-lady-thing with my stomach.
Rebecca: Do it, dude. It’s hilarious. Take one for the team.