Goose eggs or Golden Eggs?

I was explaining to my husband that I’d found the perfect analogy for our relationship.   Many people have difficulty understanding the dynamic of our marriage, but the story of the Goose that lays the golden eggs is perfect. Goose eggs or Golden Eggs? Let me explain.

Assume that my husband is the farmer and I am the goose.   The farmer owns the goose (yes I know how well that’s going to go over with some of you.)  And it is his job to take good care of her so that she will lay eggs for him.  So he feeds her, provides shelter for her, and keeps her from getting into mischief.  He protects her from foxes and other dangers.  And he grows to love her very much.  He would never ever consider doing her harm or eating her for Christmas dinner.

Likewise, the goose loves her farmer.  She knows that he  does all he can to make a comfortable life for her.   He feeds her so well that she’s fattening up.   Her plumage is soft and beautiful. He has given her the best of homes. He keeps her warm and safe.

So one day, she is so happy that she decides to lay a golden egg for him.  And then another, and another and another.   She gets great joy in doing this for him, even though she has no use for golden eggs herself.  It doesn’t matter.  As long as she can bring him the same joy he brings her.  And oh boy is he happy!

This is not unlike my marriage at all.   My husband cares for me, protects me, provides for me, and treats me with incredible loving care.   When I get myself into trouble, he guides me back to safety.  When I’m a silly goose, he laughs with me.  When I’m a naughty goose, he scolds me. But all the time, he loves me.

So in return for his care, I give him golden eggs.  I take care of his home.  I cook his favorite meals. I clean and decorate his castle.  I do his laundry.  I do my best to bring in supplemental income, which then becomes his to use for our home.  I keep myself looking pretty and feminine.  I keep myself as valuable to him as that goose is to her farmer.

It isn’t something I am forced to do.  It’s something I love to do.

And just like in the story, as long as he doesn’t get greedy or mean, I shall happily continue to produce golden eggs for him forever.

Make sense now?

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