To My Number One Worker,
I love you.
I love you because you work so very hard for us.
I love you because you fixed the stove and didn’t blow the house up in the process. (Max will forever regret missing the small explosion that did happen.)
I love you for making a to-do list of things we need to accomplish before the baby (so not your style) and tackling the behemoth that is the garage on Saturday. Thanks for keeping me going when I wanted to give up and keeping a sense of humor through it all.
I love you for encouraging a day of rest on Sunday and making the best sandwich I had all day.
I love you for announcing this morning that we were going to get things done and following through. The garage looks great. Our bedroom looks great. And you managed to take the boys mowing, shave (you know how I feel about the beard!), and grill supper, too. Then you bathed the kids on top of it all.
You’re too much.
I’m so glad you’re mine.
