Me and Husband

A glimpse at mine and Husbands relationship in two short stories.

#1
During Triathlon training on Saturday I texted Husband to tell him that I had my best ocean swim yet. Sixteen minutes for the half mile (largely due to a strong current). Regardless, my best swim of the season! I was one of the first out of the water, it was a great day for me. I got no response back. Monday afternoon Husband calls me at work: "I just went to the pool and swam a half mile in fifteen minutes. I just wanted to tell you that." I laughed out loud then said "so that's why you didn't respond to my text- you were busy crunching numbers in your mind about your own swim". "No" He said "I was really proud of you, then I needed to know my own time, now I know-fifteen minutes... and there was no current in the pool, you know flat water and all." uh-huh.

#2
During our routine bedtime ritual with The Toot: bath, changing into P. J's, brushing teeth, listening to stories -Husband and I were in The Toots room doing our usual chaotic cluster of trying to get The Toot to focus. "OK" I said "Go get your water bottle out of the living room, then we will brush teeth and then do story time." This is usually the time of day when The Toot starts to request a myriad of items to delay the bedtime process. "Can I have my water bottle?" He says right when I am telling him that we need to go brush teeth. Meanwhile, Husband is busy getting in my way by folding laundry that he HAS to put away right that second.The Toot does his usual run out the bedroom door to go collect thus and such, while I carry on with my chore of getting his bed ready and Husband limps around in his broken foot boot doing whatever he is doing. Suddenly, we hear the Toot galloping back down our long hallway, and we both simultaneously stop what we are doing and decide we will hide in his closet to pop out and and scare him. We scurry into the closet together laughing. We cram ourselves in, which is no easy task with Husbands broken foot and my 6 foot tall self hunched into The Tooties tiny closet. We huddle in there, planning our big attack, anticipation running high. "Was that him?! shhhhh quiet! quick close the door!" This goes on for a looooong time. Us hiding, crammed into the closet peeking out the door, thinking we hear him, jamming the door shut, whispering, laughing again. When suddenly we realize; its been a really long time since The Toot went to get his water bottle down the hall. Husband sneaks out of the closet with me on his heels creeping behind him. He opens the door to the bedroom to look outside. I'm waiting with baited breath, ready at any moment to leap back into the closet- when Husband walks back in and says: " he's in the damn bathroom brushing his teeth!" What?! Our little two year old is doing exactly what he was told to do: he's brushing his teeth. He is standing on top of the trash can in order to reach the sink, and has gotten his tooth brush out of the drawer by himself and is happily brushing his teeth in front of the mirror. Meanwhile, Husband and I are huddled in the closet like two crazy nuts waiting so that we can scare our child. This is when I realized that we are not right.