The Doctor is In

Harper woke with a fever this morning and the dutiful husband dashed out for a cure.

As I scurried about the kitchen, trying to assemble a bento box of Harper's most favorite foods, I overheard this conversation and realized that it wasn't grapes or Teddy Grahams for which she pined.

((the doctor administers a dose of most excellent nectar of the gods, bubblegum-flavored ibuprofen))

Harper: More uh dis! 
Brandon: No honey. This is medicine. It's not to be taken indiscriminately.
Harper: Ok, Dadda. More?
Brandon: You may have 5 more mL in 4 to 6 hours.
Harper: Yesssss.

Harper, the Infirm and Blurry

On this hallowed day, gifts of paper and clocks.

I have more than a few incomplete, elaborate posts in draft about our 5 year anniversary - which is tomorrow - up to and including a top ten list and a tearjerker that I can't even read without boohooing all over the place. I contemplated a video montage set to our favorite songs, but I chased away the crazy. We don't need that now and we've never needed it.

Why he's been my best friend for 11 years, why I married him and why I will be in love with him even when we're old and ugly and don't recognize each other, can be summed up in one occurrence over the weekend:

Brandon rumbled into the driveway with his brand-new black 2012 Mustang 5.0. It's the first new car he's ever had. He's pined over something like it for years. It's the shiniest, most spotless thing I've ever seen.

It has 25 miles on it, 20 of which he put on himself, test driving it multiple times just to be sure.

Since Harper and I heard him coming from all the way inside, we dashed around the house, putting on shoes and clothes (she was naked. I have no recollection of why.) and made a beeline to greet him.

Harper flew out the door, "Dadda! Yaaaay!"

As I opened the passenger door to slide in, Harper scrambled into the seat faster than lightning.

She pressed every single button, most of which Brandon probably hadn't pressed himself. Fingerprints galore on previously untouched glass.

She stood on the middle console in her dusty shoes then climbed to the backseat, jumped on the seats a few times then climbed back to the front. "Oooh, car."

While I held my breath, watching her like a hawk, fretting that she would get something dirty or, God forbid, break something, he played with her. And they chatted happily.

The first thing he wanted to do in his new car?  Shove her old, dirty car seat in the back and take us for a ride.

When he pressed the gas pedal, Harper happily squealed, "Whooooa! Zoom!" and to show her excitement, kicked the seat back with all the fervor her purple Crocs could manage. As I felt the happy bumps and thumps coming from the back seat, I sneaked a cautious glance over to the driver's side, but he had no furrowed brow, no worry, only a positively content smile.

It was right where he wanted to be. And it's right where I want to be forever.