Dear Future Husband,
Chances are, I don't know you yet. Maybe I do. Who knows? But if you're going to be part of my family, I have to warn you about a few things.
First off, if you smash cake in my face at our wedding reception, my mother will never forgive you. My father will probably think you're immature and question your ability to provide for a family. And I'll probably be ticked off as well. So don't do it.
I expect you to be able to make pancakes in the shape of different letters, so our children's breakfast meals will be in the shape of their initials. My father did the same thing for my sisters and I, and it was pretty much the coolest thing ever. So you might want to practice.
I'm planning to take your last name upon marrying you, but if your last name is something truly horrendous like Picklestein or Leech-head, I think I might keep my own last name, thank you very much.
Upon joining this family, you will have a nickname bestowed upon you by either my sister Heather or myself. This nickname will likely be related to a barnyard animal. It's nothing personal. I, myself, am known as Brown Cow. You could very well be Purple Peacock or Beige Llama. Don't worry, every family member has such a nickname. A full list is available upon request.
I could mention many other quirky things my family and I do, but I don't want to scare you off forever. You'll just have to wait and see what tricks we have up our sleeves...
Love,
Jennifer
