Very. Seriously.
P was up late the night before, so he needed to sleep late on the big day. I'd been up for hours when he finally emerged. His expression and demeanor hovered somewhere between Rip Van Winkle and "I eat brains."
Standing unsteadily in the kitchen, he pulled a yellow post-it note out of the sleeve of his robe with a mournful expression on his face.
"I made this for you last night while you were sleeping. I wanted you to see it when you woke up. I was going to put it someplace special. And bring you tea in bed. I guess it didn't work out."
He shuffled over to F, who watched him quietly from her highchair, bottle in mouth.
"There." He said. "Now it's someplace special."
In case you can't see it, it's a cat face hidden by an enormous heart. PRECIOUS.
What did I get P, you ask? A jar of pickled onions, duh.
SO ROMANTIC.
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