When he announced his intention to go shopping today for Mother's Day gifts (one of four holidays/events he's required to shop for each year) today, three little girls squealed with delight and wanted to come along.
His initial reaction last night was panic.
By show of hands, who here is not surprised that, when Hubby left today, he did so with three rambunctious girls in tow?
I took advantage of the free time to strip and remake the twins' beds, necessary because of Medium's nosebleed this morning ("I picked a big boogewr and den it blooded," she told me) and do some more laundry.
And enjoy the quiet.
And open up the doors to let in the very nice day.
When they all finally arrived back home about 2 this afternoon, Medium was the first to bounce into the den.
"Mommy," she said, impishness all over her face, "you'wre not supposed to ask us if we got you anyfing!"
"Oh, really?" Honestly, she was too cute for words.
"Yes! An' if you do, we're s'posed to say we didn't get you anyfing at all!"
"Then I'll be good and I won't ask."
About then Small Fry barged in, announced that Daddy had bought them new frilly socks, and then claimed credit for the wildflowers that Hubby had stopped to pick for me.
The worst part here is that Hubby showed me my nicely-wrapped gift, and told me where he was putting it, so that we don't forget it in the Sunday-morning scramble to get to church (we're meeting my parents for lunch).
And now I have to wait!
[Affected Spanish tones] I hate waiting.
Brave man.
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