He handles bath time and bedtime for each of our monkeys.
He clips their fingernails and toenails. (I get squeamish at the thought of trimming their nails after I had cut the tip of Lily's tiny finger when she was a baby. Since then BJ has handled the trimmings.)
He brushes their teeth.
He wrestles with the boys in the living room floor.
He gives Lily piggy-back rides.
Before bedtime, he goes through an elaborate bedtime routine for Lily...he reads a bedtime story, says prayers, brings her a fresh cup of cold water, fluffs her pillow, and sometimes warms her quilt in the dryer. (I feel sorry for her future husband. Her Daddy is setting the standard high.)
During my pregnancy...
He brings me a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and a glass of milk to me in bed every night, and he always brings me a full cup of cold water to put on my nightstand.
He rubs my back and my head when I'm feeling worn out from a long day of contractions and discomfort.
He doesn't allow me to lift a finger. I haven't done dishes or laundry in 8 weeks.
He looks at me like he did the first day we got married even though I'm much more round and not feeling at all pretty.
He greets me at the bottom of the stairs in the morning with a smile and a hug. It makes me feel like a school girl going on a first date.
He tells me that I'm beautiful when most days I feel tired and fat.
He asks me every day, "Have I told you how much I love you today?" Even though the answer is yes I always say "No" so that he will tell me again.
A Race Equation
1 week ago