Last Friday, I came home from work early for the Early Intervention meeting (some day, I'll probably be all like "EI this" and "ST that" but for now, I'm not down with the abbreviations like I am in TTC world). Anyway, I came home early for the EI intake appointment.
And Mr. Long-Suffering was already at home picking up and straightening so we wouldn't be embarrassed by our sloth. I got home before Linda the intake worker arrived, so we were home alone. We haven't been in our house sans enfants since January. It's a weird feeling. A free feeling. So, Mr. Long-Suffering comes out of the kitchen holding a Keebler Fudge Stripe cookie in one hand and a can of Redi-Whip in the other and makes an appetizer out of those two things and asks me if I want one. No KIDS. No KIDS. We can eat junk and not share and not pass down bad habits involving canned whipping cream.