The teacher today sort of roasted her husband. She is wonderful, warm, funny, smart and sweet. Extremely positive. So was the tone of her lesson.

I’ve always watched this family and been impressed by their good example. They are genuinely good people and a genuinely happy family. Their kids are achievers and simply awesome, respectful, that kind of kid. Her husband is now a counselor in our bishopric. I love him, he’s got this dry wit.

Anyway, and I cannot remember why she told this story, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it and snickering as the lesson continued. She said one day as she was moving boxes around, she found a letter her husband had written her when they were first married (I think they’ve been married around 20 years). It was loving. It was mushy.

She read it, smiled, and set it on her night stand to read again. Later, her husband came home and found this letter. He went to her at once.

“Who wrote you this letter? Who wrote this? I want to know!” He’s all fuming and jealous. She stared at him incredulously. She said it took a few minutes to convince him that he wrote it.

A few minutes later, her husband got dinged again. Her daughter, a Laurel, was sitting in front with her teacher — sometimes they come in. My friend discussed people who are negative and complain constantly, then she looked at her daughter and asked, “who does that remind you of?”

“Dad?” Her daughter asked tentatively.

“No!” she exclaimed, “Laman and Lemuel!”

That pretty much brought the house down. And the really bad thing is she swore us to secrecy. Which I’m now doing here. Don’t tell anybody.