Not only is my husband the Let's Getter Done type, he's the Stitch In My Side type. He makes each one of us laugh every day. Especially Luke. Luke gets all daddy's jokes--even if they weren't meant to be jokes.
So, this must be another goal on his checklist I was talking about. Which is great. Especially when I can attest to having a few long days in my motherhood lifetime. Having a breath of fresh air drift through the door at the end of the work day is seemingly theraputic.
Here's an example of his attempts in laugh therapy while out at a friend's old amish farm. The day our family met Molly the Milking Goat and turned from our virgin goat milking ways, Mr. Marvelous was caught doing this:
And as you can tell here, I apparently didn't notice. I had my hands in some serious stuff. But after the fact, I was flipping through the camera and nearly fell to the floor in stitches.
**Oh, and he's officially turned. Twenty Eight, that is. In the card I wrote him this morning, I shared that 28 is "really getting up there." He's on the verge of halfway to retirement.
I guess I don't know why I'm talking, being a year older than him.
Happy Birthday, Babes.