Husband and I had a nice little evening out tonight. There was wine and mood lighting. There was hand holding and dessert. It was lovely. And we returned home to the happiest, pj-wearingest little sillypants ever, just running around with Grandma Judy's car keys.
We got home about an hour and half after his normal bedtime routine, about a half hour after he's usually actually asleep. And yet there he was, smiling and giggling and running around. For a brief second I got a sense of what Husband comes home to every evening and it was enough to make me want to go back to work (for about a second), just so I could walk through the door to that gleeful little face.
He sees me ALL. THE. TIME. I am not exciting to him. And that's okay, I guess, because what I lack in thrills, I make up for in stability; he is 100% confident in my presence and that's enough for me. But the way he lights up when Husband walks through the door at the end of the day--I wanna get me some of that!
So I really loved that fact that he was up way past his bedtime tonight. If I weren't about to fall asleep from the effects of the one measley little glass of wine I drank at dinner, I would write more. But instead, I am going to go watch more re-runs of Jay Leno and David Letterman. Because I am up way past my bedtime...