Nearing dinner time, my husband walked into the bedroom and discovered me wrapped in a blanket, with a book in my hands. He prudently announced that he would make dinner.
Out in the kitchen, our eight-year-old asked him, “What’s for dinner?”
He said, “Sausage.”
“How do you know? Did mom tell you?”
“No,” he lied.
“Or did you say, ‘What’s for dinner, Betsy?’ And she said, ‘Whatever you want, Dear.'”
Ah, what a Leave it to Beaver life we lead, only Mr. Cleaver does the cooking. Perfect!
And just as an added bonus, here’s another great quote from my three-year-old: “Watch me stick my tongue in my nose!” Fortunately, despite a mighty effort, she was not able to accomplish this feat.
Stay tuned for Husband Stories parts 2 and 3. It was an eventful weekend!
P.S. I don’t know why my posts are coming out with weird spacing. That’s not done for some sort of stylistic reason. It’s just happening on its own, and I seem to be powerless to stop it. Why wordpress? Why?!?!?!