As it's close to Valentine's Day, and as I'm wonderful, my husband brought me flowers today. I had been in the kitchen with Noah when we heard the door open and the telltale noise of cellophane wrapping crackling in the next room.
"Noah!" my husband called. "Come here! Without Mommy!"
"Dad? Dad! Sure thing, Dad!" And off he went.
From the kitchen I heard their too-loud whispers, certainly deliberate on Joe's part. "Here. Take these in to Mommy."
"Aww, Dad, do I have to? Can't you do it?"
"No! You take them, Noah. Mommy will be so happy. Tell her they're from me."
"Ugh. All right."
I walked around the corner to meet him halfway. The bouquet was beautiful, all shades of my favorite color, purple, and wrapped up with curled ribbon.
"Noah!" I exclaimed. "How beautiful! Are those for me?"
"Yes," he said, slightly irritated. He really likes his Daddy time, and this was obviously taking away from it. "These are from--"
"I love them! It was so nice of you to get me flowers!" His eyes widened in surprised concern. "When did you buy them?"
"No, Mom, they're from--"
"And they're my favorite color, too! How nice you are to buy your mother flowers!"
"But, no! Mom, it was Daddy--"
"And look at these ribbons! Noah, you really are the nicest boy."
"But Daddy got the--"
"I love you so much. Since you bought me something nice, I think I'll buy you a toy."
"Mom, the flowers are from Daddy AND me."