My Captain wished me ‘Happy Anniversary’ this morning.
And I said, “For what?”
And then there was a pregnant pause.
And then I said, “Oh CRAP!”
And then he smirked and said, “I win.”
And I grumbled.
I TOTALLY forgot that today was our wedding anniversary. I’m talking not even remotely on my radar.
It’s not that I don’t care. It’s just that the date doesn’t really mean much to me. All I care about is the fact that he loves me, that he puts up with my, er, challenging personality, and that he’ll be there for me when I run out of toilet paper when I’m trapped on the potty.
Sure, roses are nice. Chocolate and jewelry are wonderful. But I don’t need those things as much as I need a guy who will be home when he says he’ll be home, or a guy who will put band-aids on my kid’s boo-boos, or a guy who doesn’t bat an eye when I make a clown of myself.
Repeatedly.
So when he reminded me today that it was our anniversary, and I finished grumbling about the fact that he’d one-upped me, I slapped him a hearty High-Five, congratulated us on our forbearance, and we both continued on with our day quite content. And that’s enough for both of us.
Last year, our dear friend Peggy made us this cake to celebrate our union:
I mean…if ever a cake epitomized a relationship, it was this cake:
If you look closely, you can see the resemblance.
Just imagine us dancing on a pile of chocolate fondant.
Mama Boe 