Yesterday, I was laying in bed, like I had done the entire day, feeling sick – when I hear that laughter coming from my husband. It’s the kind of gut busting giggle that bursts from the soul, and everyone wants to hear the origin.
Especially because it’s rare to hear Jon laugh that loud. He chuckles, he grins, but when it’s really good, he has a belly bust that is infection to everyone around him.
I sit up.
Look over to the soft grey, wrap around couch in our bedroom.
Cock my head to the side, and fire…
no answer, just hoops and hollerin’
Again, no intelligible response.
He walked over to my side of the sleigh bed, and says
“Earlier tonight, one of our children (who will remain anonymous – this is why I never write stories about my older kids) came in and explained that they must be having an allergic reaction to something, because she was itching all over her body, and asked for some anti itch cream. I pointed to the closet with all the medicines in totes, and they she took care of it.”
I still didn’t find the humor in his message, until he held up this:
Then I got it.
You see, I keep an extra stash of everything you could ever possibly need in a certain closet in our room. It is filled with medicines, shampoos, deodorants, band aides, hair spray, pads, tampons, shaving cream, and many other things that are all organized into about 20 totes.
I ran out of label makers, before totes.
I still haven’t had the heart to ask if it worked.
I couldn’t help but notice how well the Vagisil packet matched with the flowers I bought to plant in my front yard on Saturday.
They turned out beautifully, but my favorite part was when we were ready to go home, and Handsome announced that he had to go to the bathroom (again), and he couldn’t wait until we got home. I walked him into the nursery’s bathroom, and he exclaimed with sheer delight,
“WOAH…! This smells cool Mom!”
Only a boy.