It all started with a night full of paying bills. Add in Wyatt not paying attention because he kept getting sucked into the episode of American Choppers that was currently blaring from the TV, and I was grumpy, pouty, and well, just unhappy. After I sat stewing on the couch for a long enough amount of time for Wyatt to notice my frown and ask a few times what the heck was wrong with me, the following commenced.

“Wyatt, cheer me up,” I said in a whiney voice. (Hey, I’m not proud of it, but sometimes I’m just salty.)

“Can I get you a bowl of ice cream?”

…(pause)…

“Sure.”

So we had ice cream. And it was yummy and nice. And I was a little cheered up.

A little.

“Wyatt, now what?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the ice cream was a good start, but I’m still not cheered yet.”

“WHAT?”

“Well, you can’t just give me ice cream and expect me to be all happy the rest of the night.”

“Well…”

“Well what?”

“That’s all I have in my toolbox!”

And then we laughed, and we kissed, and I was suddenly aware that I was standing in my kitchen with a husband who genuinely loves me, and knows me oh so well. And what could make me happier than that?