We went for breakfast this morning, the whole family minus Braeden. Filing into the restaurant, we were seated at our table. After many smiles from other patrons and hello’s to our children, the waitress, who we know well, came over to our table to greet us and shared the following story.
Recently, she had been in the presence of some women who are nurses and laboratory people at our local hospital. They know my husband, as he’s a fire fighter/paramedic and is frequently in and out of the Emergency Department there. The waitress continued to tell us how these women were discussing, at length, how sweet they think he is and how “hot” they think he is.
Chest puffed, eyebrow raised, a look of complete male arrogance on his face, “Mr. Hottie” smiled and nodded at me. Rolling my eyes at his feigned conceited, I told our waitress that the ladies were welcome to him. She laughed and said that’s what she told them- “I said she’d probably say, You can have him and his dirty laundry!”
“Yes, please tell them I’ll drop him off.” I agreed.
Ego ridiculously inflated, my husband continued to puff about until my precious little Kian, in his unfailingly honest and innocent way, loudly for all to hear, chimed in with, “Yeah and he poops for a really long time too!”
Tears of absolute hilarity welled in my eyes. Leave it to my incredibly straightforward six-year-old to completely and totally burst my husband’s ego bubble. Shaking his head, ego sufficiently put back in place, my husband could only sigh at the truth.
Ahhhh, Kian well done. Well done son! There is a little of me in you after all- I’m so damn proud.