Honey and I had a disagreement on Sunday. I wanted him to run to a friend’s house and pick up “something” and he didn’t want to go that day. A “disagreement” ensued and climaxed in Honey walking out of the house, driving out of the driveway and yelling “FINE” as he drove out of sight. (Not really – I just imagined I heard that) Honey pulled out of the driveway just as I set plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes in front of the children.
Little said, “He’s leaving. Where’s daddy?” (I’m not going to type it, but she said this three times, of course.)
I muttered under my breath, “In the doghouse.”
The rest of dinner was spent listening to Little say, “He’s gone. He’s in the doghouse. I want to see it.” OVER AND OVER.
When Honey arrived home, Little met him at the door saying, “He’s back. He’s back from the doghouse.” I was in the back room doubled over laughing. I could hear Honey laughing in the den. I imagined I heard the tension between us heading out the door, up the driveway, and out of sight.
And that’s “FINE” by me!!!