"Ahoy Me Mateys": A letter to the daycare.

One would think that their husband might be a little bit supportive of a person in the throes of a major crisis.
But no.

Last night, because it was weighing heavily on my mind and also because I drank a half a bottle of Chardonnay, I voiced my concern to Geoff about the daycare wrongfully persecuting my Payton for being a Booty shaker.
"Mmm." he said, nodding non committally.
"Well, don't you think she should be able to at least say 'booty' if she wants to?" I asked, pressing him.
Finally he perked up a bit. "Wait a minute. Why would she be saying 'booty' at daycare again?"
"Well, naturally, because of the song."
"Wait. There's a song?"
"Yes, and a dance. But you're not getting the point here. I think that a person should be able to say booty whenever the need arises."
"And in what context, exactly, would you need to use the word 'booty'? When you're five years old?"
"Well, for one, if we were pirates."
"But we're not."
"That's not the point. It's the principle of thing. And I'm going to have to invoke my fifth amendment right here and say that that's actually a form of harassment."
"You're invoking your right to a fair and speedy trial?"
"First of all. You watch WAY too many Law and Order marathons. And secondly. You know exactly which amendment I'm talking about. The one that says I can say whichever shit I want to say."
"I don't think the constitution's worded quite that way."
"Well, whatever. Can I at least bounce off my idea for the letter I'm thinking of writing to the Board. Now keep in mind that I'm trying to come off sounding like a pirate."
At this point, I'm pretty sure that he rolled his eyes.
And I'm pretty sure that, no, it was not my imagination, which is exactly what he insinuated when I called him on it.

"Ahoy me Mateys,

A fortnight ago, I shivered me timbers when me scurvey mate Payton be tellin me that she aren't allowed to be sayin' 'booty' at your doth daycare vessel. I doth protest to this. "

Personally, I thought it was a great start.
But Geoff, of course, has to burst my bubble. Always him with the bursting of the bubbles.

"First of all, I think you way overshot the pirate in that. Secondly, I'm pretty sure they know that we're not pirates. They've never seen you go to daycare with a patch on your eye or a hook on your arm or a parrot on your shoulder. Actually, I dont' think there even are any pirates any more. Thirdly, you're on the daycare board, need I remind you. Fourthly, pirates don't say 'doth protest'. That's Shakespeare. And lastly, no more Chardonnay for you tonight."

"But wasn't Shakespeare a pirate?"

And then with the sigh.
This is how virtually every conversation with Geoff ends. A deep sigh of mock exasperation.
Or maybe it's actual exasperation.
But he can't always be so exasperated with me?
Can he?
I don't get him.