Mower and I took the kids to school this morning. The highlights:

1) Poor Bubba. She is so used to the morning rush of getting them up and ready and unsuccessfully getting out the door on time, that when we pulled into the parking lot, she asked, "Are we late?" For once, we were early. Make note of that, Bubba, it may never happen again as long as your father insists on taking twenty minutes to fart around in the kitchen to make your lunches, which usually consists of a roll and a banana. Complicated, time-consuming stuff.

2) We were discussing with Bubba's teacher what Bubba meant about her white shiny shoes not being "school shoes." Bubba's teacher told us Bubba doesn't want to get them dirty so she won't play at recess, which Bubba didn't tell us. In the middle of the discussion, Mower made a farting sound. I ignored it, hoping it was not what I thought it was.

3) We get into the truck and Mower tells me that he was making a movement with his toe in his shoe and it made the noise. He debated making it again so maybe she would think it wasn't a fart, but then decided not to so she wouldn't think he's just standing them letting them fly like an oblivious 80-yr-old without his hearing aide in thinking they are SBD's.

4) Mower and I both started cracking up when he read my mind and asked, "This is going in the blog, isn't it?"

5) Mower reached over and felt my forehead. He said, "You feel cold and clammy. I'm concerned about you." I didn't say anything. He kept looking at me, and said, "I'm worried about you." For a brief, fleeting moment I considered the possibility that my honey finally got a clue, that he could be supportive when I maybe wasn't feeling well, but I looked over at him and replied, "No, we are not going to IHOP." He asked, astounded, "How did you know I was going to say some French Toast will help?" "Because when I am sick, you curse because you have to take care of the kids and the house by yourself and try to make me get up." I laughed. He started laughing with me too. "This is going in the blog too, huh Peej?" Yup. What good is it to have a butthead of a husband without a blog in which to ridicule him? I love you honey.