He says he has a house full of girls, who else is going to take care of them?
I don't like to admit my dire femininity. Or admit that I really need to be taken care of. After all, aren't I an island? I could look after myself just fine before my brawny man came into the mix, thank you very much.
But at this point in my life, I find myself giving into all of it. Yes, think of ways to make us a fortune. Yes, make some phone calls in my behalf. Yes, take in the garbage cans. After so many years I have finally come to terms. I'll cook him some supper after he comes home from a long day at work. Because I care.
But let's be honest, I didn't even get up off the couch when he walked through the door tonight. I clocked out. I promptly requested he cook us girls some quesadillas. Grace ran up and plucked his phone from his pocket and started playing games (running the battery down), Ruby stormed down the hall crying (because she didn't get the phone first) and Lillie pulled at his pant leg and yelled at him incessantly to play doggy.
It's midnight. He fell asleep on the couch at 9. Tonight's not a night for worrying.
Seriously, I love the guy.