For Fathers Day

Early yesterday I told Steve that our family would celebrate Fathers Day when we start officially celebrating Mothers Day.

I didn't want to give him any false hope of lame presents and cards that we didn't buy him.

(He bought himself four kites last month so don't feel too sorry for him.)

But because I'm not totally heartless and because it technically was Fathers' Day...

I let Steve get away with using my prickly unshaven legs to scratch his mosquito bitten itchy ankles.

He was sad after I shaved them for church.  

I made him beans with dinner. 

This was the first time in our 13 year marriage that I cooked beans.

Steve loves beans and I (cough cough) do not.

And I not talking about just opening a white trash can of pork 'n beans and heating them up on the stove- oh no!   I browned sausage, onions and apples together before combining them with three different kinds of beans to slowly cook together in a crock pot for hours, perfectly combining all their delicious (gag) flavors together to make my mother's famous baked beans.  Don't tell my mom, but it smelled like home.

...but I didn't try one bite.

I also told him that if he woke up this morning and I wasn't there, it was because I was translated.  Making him beans makes me the perfect wife.

I invited my entire Sunday school class over for dinner so Steve would have six teenage boys to play RC cars and kites with until 10pm last night.  Only two cars and one kite were damaged in the process.

I'm a saint, I know.

Love you Steve. 

 Happy "celebrated by the rest of the country but not by us because we are huge sticks in the mud" Fathers Day.