Although it seems like there are one million things to blog about, this one seems the most urgent...I know this may be cheesy but I guess I am allowed to be that way from time to time...
REASONS WHY I AM GRATEFUL FOR DAVEY-BOY...
He doesn't get too sad when we call him Davey-Doodle, David Stool (my boys call him this making fun of his middle name) or DA-Veed.
He becomes obessed about something and does not quit until it is perfected, right now it is ice cream and we might be purchasing a soft-serve machine in the near future.
When I read him articles like the "Dear Abby" below, and when I ask him if he thinks it is the most hillarious thing he has ever heard he replies, "I don't really think it is funny but I can see why you do."
He can fix anything. He has a good relationships with most machines. His first bit of advice to anyone is to unplug it and then plug it back in.
He is calm when I am not.
He is calm when I almost back over him and kill him and other assorted things that I have done in our married life.
His parenting philosophy boils down to this statement, "If the kids do not have the chance to experience pain how will they know what will hurt them?" I am more the parent that wants them to not make mistakes because then I feel like I will have to deal with it. I want to be more like him.
He is more than willing to help our kids to follow through with their desires and experiments (that's why they are outside sleeping in a tent in the pouring rain, if they had asked me I would have said, "let's do it another night").
He bought me a cat trap and a grout removing machine for Mother's Day...he is a great gift giver...he always knows what I want.
He brought home a TV today for my craft room and he dramatically handed me the keys and said, "go look in the car, ok you really don't need the keys because it is unlocked but I wanted to add to the drama of the moment."
He cries more at movies than I do.
He lets me drag him all over Ogden (sometimes very reluctantly, mind you) and the world when he would be just fine never seeing the light of day in the basement.
He wears the sickest motorcycle t-shirts that are probably 20 years old, I guess that I am grateful that he doesn't care or spend more on his appearance than I do.
He eats leftovers and he says he loves my cooking.
He feels like home.
