Earlier this week, CJ and I were talking about something in the kitchen when she abruptly stopped and slowly reached out to my beard. Apparently, a single hair had gotten curled upward, going against the grain. She smoothed it down, and said apologetically, “Sorry, that one was really bothering me.”
“Yeah, my entire beard needs a trim. It’s getting a little mangy.”
“I’ll trim you up tonight,” she replied.
I chuckled. “That’s ok, I think I can trim my own beard.”
“I like trimming your beard. I love the look of fear in your eyes.”
It’s moments like this one that remind me why I married her – all those sweet nothings she whispers in my ear.
Um, dear, that WAS a sweet nothing, wasn’t it? Dear?!?