Just a few days ago Skylar and I decorated gingerbread cookies. With sweat at my brow, I mixed and rolled the dough and then I carefully baked them with love. We covered them with colorful frosting and other decorations. It was so damn cozy and lovely.
"What a wonderful husband I am," I thought to myself about this magical experience I created for Skylar. "And now he'll have these delicious treats to munch on for several days."
I even put them on a Christmas plate my mother gave me.
The cookies then sat on the counter for one day. Then two. Then three. Untouched were they by the man who swore with a blood oath to devote every iota of his being to cherish me.
Then on Tuesday night I heard him say "I really need a sweet snack."
Finally, I thought to myself. He'd finally go eat those cookies.
A minute later I saw him pour pepto bismol into a glass. INTO A GLASS. Take a sip. Smack his lips. Make that "ahhh" sound like a tv dad who just started drinking a beer. And then say "that hit the spot."
Have I ever eaten Flinstone vitamins as a snack? Sure.
Did my sister and I used to sneak into the medicine cabinet to drink the grape cough syrup? Yes.
But never in my life would it occur to me to go drink PEPTO. BISMOL.
AS A SNACK!
Especially not while there are delicious gingerbread cookies sitting out on a Christmas plate!
Gingerbread cookies MADE WITH LOVE!
I can barely drink pepto bismol for medical reasons. Why would anyone want to drink it. FOR FUN.
I am married to a deeply weird person.
~It Just Gets Stranger