I was just kidding when you asked me why there were no gifts under the tree for me and I said, “Because I was really bad this year. Again.” Really, I’ve been very good this year. Daddy is just really not good at doing things like, shopping or remembering what day of the year Christmas falls on.
Don’t worry though. He usually gets it together around December 18th. I have every confidence in his abilities to successfully succeed.
And kudos to you, for looking out. I appreciate the man that you will someday become.
I find your mispronunciations of common sayings quite charming. For example? When you say “I’m in like flint!” I grow to love you even more.
However? Sweetie, when you say, “Put that in your pot and smoke it!” No one knows what you mean. People might think you are partaking in illegal substances. Actually, you kind of sounds like you might be, merely based upon that particular statement.
So, just because I think you are swell, it’s actually, “Put that in your PIPE and smoke it!” Pots are used for calling kettles black.
Oh my frog, I love you.
I did not know that I could love you more than I loved you last week. Then? You did something really annoying like leaving your little hairs all over the sink after you shaved? And I was like, “Yeah. Not perfect.” But then? You planned a romantic getaway for us to the Biltmore Estate and I was like, “Yeah. REDEEMED!”
Not that gifts are the way to my heart, mind you. I loved you when you were poor and I’d love you the exact same way if you were a millionaire. The gifts just sort of make up for the times when you do things like decide the children need to practice pro-wrestling in the living room while I’m trying to watch “Engaged and Underage”.
So stop that, okay? I really like that program.
I love you! You’re the best husband that an ugly fat girl with two kids on her hips could have ever hoped to find. In fact? Cindy freaking Crawford would have been lucky to get you hot rod!