It all started with a night full of paying bills. Add in Wyatt not paying attention because he kept getting sucked into the episode of American Choppers that was currently blaring from the TV, and I was grumpy, pouty, and well, just unhappy. After I sat stewing on the couch for a long enough amount of time for Wyatt to notice my frown and ask a few times what the heck was wrong with me, the following commenced.
“Wyatt, cheer me up,” I said in a whiney voice. (Hey, I’m not proud of it, but sometimes I’m just salty.)
“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?”
So we had ice cream. And it was yummy and nice. And I was a little cheered up.
“Wyatt, now what?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, the ice cream was a good start, but I’m still not cheered yet.”
“Well, you can’t just give me ice cream and expect me to be all happy the rest of the night.”
“That’s all I have in my toolbox!”
And then we laughed, and we kissed, and I was suddenly aware that I was standing in my kitchen with a husband who genuinely loves me, and knows me oh so well. And what could make me happier than that?