Last night Kyle and I stopped by the mall on the way home from Grandpa’s viewing. My waistline is rapidly disappearing and I had a great need for shirts that fit.
Maternity clothes are all outrageously priced, incidentally.
On our way out, I bought some ice cream for the two of us as a thank you for him taking time away from homework. (It turns out it was waffle cone Wednesday at TCBY, so it only cost me two dollars. My inner cheapskate was happy.) On our way out of the mall, I asked Kyle to hold my ice cream while I put my coat on.
Kyle: I’d love to eat your ice cream. … I mean hold your ice cream.
Me: You would steal ice cream from a pregnant lady, wouldn’t you.
Kyle: I’d steal ice cream from a baby.
And this, folks, is the man I married.