Today is Jon’s 41st birthday.
I truly feel like I have aged far more in the last year than he has, and not just because I’m starting to have chunks of infected flesh cut out of my body. He has a natural ability to stay calm in really chaotic situations, whereas if the wind changes direction my entire head bursts into flames. This is saving him a load of unnecessary wrinkles.
It also makes for really interesting ways to talk a toddler off the edge, and in the last year I have overheard him saying the following things that make me feel pretty lucky that he is the father of my child:
“Kids, only one person is allowed to sit on the toilet at a time in this house.”
“Whatever it is that you just pulled out of your hair and put into your mouth, I hope it first didn’t come from another part of your body.”
“You have to eat this chocolate first or you don’t get a treat.”
“Take the ant out of your mouth, you’ll ruin your dinner.”
“Stop screaming, you can still wiggle your fingers, can’t you? I THOUGHT SO.”
“If you don’t brush your teeth right now they will all fall out, and when you wake up Elmo will be dead.”
“Next time can you stop talking while you are farting? I didn’t catch that whole last sentence.”