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Convergence of the Twain

They met. Her parents and my parents. Though highly improbable, I couldn't help but fear a low-budget remake of Ben Stiller's "Meet the Parents". I jokingly muttered that we ought to bring brass knuckles, baseball bats and body armour. One could never tell when a friendly meeting of two clans would result in a massive brawl.
There was always the fear that our parents, being to us our parents, would say or do something that would either embarass themselves or agitate members of the other clan. Starting off on a wrong foot was something we truly feared.
We left out one possibility. Our parents shared embarassing details of our respective childhoods and had a great laugh at our expense.
I look into her eyes, and smile. Our embarassment was a small price to pay for a glimpse of what family life would be like.

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