Recently, my husband threw a silent tantrum for a week. It was bliss❣
She looked at her living room floor. It looked like war had been waged here (a battle of toys to end all battles)...
Every once in a while, my brother brings me a dish of whatever mouth-watering concoction he's produced. My husband, for reasons unbeknownst to me, sees this as a challenge, and he goes above and beyond to make the next meal he prepares (more often than not a variation of my brother's dish) extra scrumptious. How do I know, you ask? Because for the duration of the meal, and sometimes the day after (if there are any leftovers) he repeatedly asks whether I'm enjoying the meal and how it compares to my brother's. Not once, not twice, but sometimes as much as five times.
So I'm laying there, examining his face by the early morning light, overcome by love and all the sappy motherly emotions you hope could last all day. Then he wakes up and gives me the cutest smiles and sweetest hugs, I feel so blessed and I realize, this tiny human being, this is my gift. Every year, him and his brother are my anniversary gifts, and I love and cherish them so much I wouldn't trade them for the world. Then, in his loving play, he whacks me in the eye and I think, maybe I should have saved the receipt, hrmpff