The ongoing jokes about how marriage can drain the romantic spark are age-old. I recall when my fiancé’s older friends playfully teased him about the decline of certain intimate activities. He shot me a look that silently asked, “Is this true?” I shook my head resolutely. No certificate was going to put a damper on our intimacy. And for a while, it didn’t.
Then we welcomed children into our lives. Apart from the physical changes that came with childbirth—hello, stretch marks and a cesarean scar—there was sheer exhaustion from caring for a newborn. Our romantic encounters became less frequent and often rushed. It was like sex on a diet: quick, quiet, and devoid of buildup. We found ourselves scheduling intimate moments, often finding it impossible to do so.
One evening, after returning home late from a family dinner, our oldest had fallen asleep in the car. We quietly transitioned him to bed and, as I was shutting the door to the baby’s room, I turned to my husband and asked, “Got 10 minutes?” He chuckled and replied, “Absolutely.”
In a flurry, we shed our clothes and jumped onto the bed. Just as things started to heat up, we heard our son’s innocent voice echo through the house: “What are you guys doing?” Oh no, please tell me this isn’t happening! I felt my cheeks flush, while my husband stifled a laugh, burying his face in my neck. Great. Guess I was on my own for this one.
“We’re just talking.” Talking? What a terrible cover-up!
“Talking naked?” my five-year-old chimed in. “That’s silly.”
“That’s us, super silly! Did you need something?” Now I was grasping at straws, desperate to steer this cringe-worthy moment to an end.
“Did I leave Mr. Bear in here?” he asked, blissfully unaware. My husband reached over, retrieved the beloved toy, and tossed it toward our son.
“Thanks, good night!” he yelled back. Just when I thought we were in the clear, he popped his head back in to add, “You know, if you’re really talking naked, you’re doing it wrong. Daddy’s still wearing socks!”
Once our son finally exited, we lay there in fits of laughter—so hard we could hardly breathe. The moment may not have turned into what we had planned, but it transformed into something more genuine and hysterically real.
Afterwards, we munched on a microwave pizza and drifted off to sleep. Honestly, it was even better than the intended romance.
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