Hubby: "Don't text me! I'm 38, not 18."
Me: "Are you sure you're not 68, you old fogey? Next thing I know, you'll be telling me that all that 'newfangled technology' is the work of the devil."
Hubby: "Well. It is."
(So you can perhaps see why I'm convinced he's really a crotchety elderly man in disguise. I always remind him that if I hadn't married him and saved him from himself, he'd be the lonely old man with 100 cats yelling at the neighbor kids to get off his lawn. Except, he retorts, he HATES cats.)
Incident #1: I arrived home from work tonight and Hubby had the boyz all ready to go out to dinner at Friendly's. I asked him if Baby was wearing underwear (potty-training! going well! don't wanna jinx it by discussing!) and he said yes. So I got ready to dash back into the house for a spare pair of underwear and pants in case there was an accident. Hubby informed me he had already packed them.
Incident #2: While in the car, Middle made a comment about preschool today and how he didn't get to decorate his shirt for Family Fun Day. Crap! I had forgotten to pack the plain white tee shirt he needed! As I was exclaiming this, Hubby rolled his eyes at me and remarked, "I packed it for him. They just didn't have time to decorate them today."
Incident #3: Driving back from dinner, I asked Hubby what was in the washing machine. He told me that it was Eldest's bedding (we've been washing his sheets constantly, it seems, due to the amount of puking my poor buddy has spewed over the past 3 days--but he's better now! don't wanna jinx it by discussing!) so I asked Hubby if he had re-made Eldest's bed with the other sheets.
That must have been the last straw:
Hubby: "I'm not just a pretty face, you know! Do you think I'm simply your Trophy Husband? That I just sit home and look pretty?"
I admit, he's quite the guy. Everything I could ask for and more. Seriously. Now if only he'd answer my text messages...