As a 1930s wife, I am
Well, it would seem that even though I scored a "Very Superior" on the above test, I owe my family an apology.
First to Jeff. My dear, I am so very sorry that I have never given you a shampoo or a manicure. Please don't hold your breath waiting for either of those from me. Additionally, it would seem I am not supposed to open your personal mail. So, in the future, I will leave all those pesky letters from places like Allegheny Power and National City Bank for you. I apologize for putting my cold feet on you at night and for wearing pajamas, rather than a nightgown, while I am putting my cold feet on you. Finally, and most egregiously, I offer you a heartfelt apology for walking around the house in stocking feet and for wearing red nail polish. I must be a terrible embarrassment to you.
In my defense, however, I would like to point out that I HAVE kept myself "dainty, perfumed, and feminine", and I always laugh and your "jokes and clowning." Also, I have never eaten onions, radishes, or garlic before a date, and I always react with "delight to marital congress." I should get bonus points for those things.
To my children: I apologize for not getting "dressed for breakfast" every morning. I realize I have probably scarred you for life since you have seen me in my pajamas while eating your Fruit Loops. I am also terribly sorry that I have never, in all my years as your loving mother, washed the lid of the milk bottle before pouring said liquid into your bowl of Fruit Loops. How have you survived lo, these many years, without a clean milk bottle rim?
Also, I am quite certain that I have served way too many meals from "tin cans or the delicatessen store". Cooking is not my strong point. I readily admit that. However, I do notice that none of you seems to be starving. And I know that I have probably mortified you to the highest degree when my shoulder straps hung over my arm or my slip was crooked. I'm sorry. Finally, my dear children, please accept my sincerest apologies for cooking in my pajamas. I see hours of therapy in your futures.
Now, all you readers who are also mothers, go take the test and let me know how you score. Oh, and be sure to make your appropriate apologies too.