On Wednesday, Ben had a bunch of meetings at school all day, so he was able to come home for lunch.
I was super excited for our lunchtime quickie.
And by “quickie,” I mean me spending all morning making the man double chococlate-chip muffins and egg salad so he could step in the door and grab the lunch I packed and escort a waiting, dressed Ada to his truck so he could take her to preschool for the first time ever because Mya and Jacob were both running fevers.
It was awesome.
And so were these, just for the record. Flickr/GoldenDoodle227
And then, twenty minutes later, fifteen minutes after he was supposed to back to work and just as I was about to lay two drowsy, miserable kids down for naps, my phone rang.
“Ohmygosh, Chaunie, I’m at the gas station and I don’t have my credit card! I just pumped $35 worth of gas!”
I looked down at his credit card, the very one I had laid out on the counter for him last night, precisely so he wouldn’t forget it, still sitting on the counter…and sighed.
And bundled two sick kids up and threw them in the car to race to the gas station to my husband…
For another quickie.