Doggy Bags

Do you know why I love my husband? He brings me doggy bags. Every once in a while he gets to go out to a mega-swanky dinner for his work. Since the first one a year and a half ago he has never failed to bring me a doggy bag. It's a big deal to him. At this time in our lives we rarely go out for that kind of meal...spending two weeks grocery money in one night type thing...and I think he feels guilty that I'm home with the kids while he dines with adults. While I'm giving night time baths, some tuxedoed dude is turning on the water in the men's room so he can wash fillet Mignon grease from his fingertips. He wishes I could be there to experience it with him, so...

He eats exactly half of his meal. Last night he brought me two jumbo prawns, half of a lobster tail, half of a fillet Mignon, half a scoop of potatoes, and half of a slice of strawberry cheesecake. My doggy bags always come beautifully presented in fancy packaging and he will sit with me on the couch and describe how everything tasted when it was served and how it was presented. He will tell me what the dinner conversation was and what the restaurant looked like inside. He described how the waiters were dressed and even how the alcohol smelled that was served to some of the people.

This morning I heated up my fillet in the oven, shared my potatoes with Evan and enjoyed my cheesecake. (I was freaked out about eating day old seafood...so with much regret I tossed the prawns and lobster tail...is that just an urban legend or does seafood not keep overnight?) Nic teased me about being an uncultured sloth because I speared the whole hunk of meat with a fork and dipped it in KC masterpiece BBQ sauce. But then he laughed and said, "It's your present, eat it how you want."

Thank you honey for doing the little things that mean so much. I love you.