Thursday, June 23, 2011

Not that I'm counting...

Dear Polliwog,

These past nine months have been perfect. Not always ideal situations, but perfect because I've had you by my side. You've been my best friend, my comforter, and my lover. You make an average trip to the grocery store feel like going to Disneyland. I love when it's late at night and we remember that we need something, like toilet paper. You sing the whole way (two blocks) to the grocery store and then arbitrarily dance with me in the empty aisles. The workers always give us funny looks but it's okay because I'm laughing and you're dancing us into things and/or those workers. I'm usually blushing by that point but you just shrug it off. Thanks for always making me laugh off my embarrassment.

I love and hate when you're singing silly songs at the top of your lungs... everywhere. I'm honestly surprised that our neighbors in Provo haven't called the landlord or the police on us. I do love when your silly songs involve made up words about me and a teapot. If you're not doing that, then you're always whistling. It can be really irritating but I always know where to find you in the house or at the grocery store and then I think it's cute. You're kind of ridiculously cute sometimes.

I love that putting the toilet seat back down after you're finished using it is such a hullabaloo. You cause an uproar every time I ask you to go put it down. You stomp your feet all the way to the bathroom and barely touch the lid so that it drops and makes a bang. It's really funny and cute and makes me wonder if our future little boys will feel so strongly about leaving the seat up. Thanks for being willful and opinionated about things. It's totally hot.

I love when I'm upset and you start dancing or singing a silly song about why I'm crying. I love that you hold me and brush my hair and rub my back when I've had a wretched day. It's really sweet and I hope our future little boys have the ability to comfort their future spouses as well as you comfort me. It's probably my favorite thing about you.

I love when you say, "who do I love?" and I say, "me!" and you say, "no, silly. Richard Simmons." when I know that you really mean me. Or at least I hope that you mean me.

I love you, my Polliwog. Thanks for marrying me and being my best friend. Thanks for a perfect nine months. Let's have a bajillion more.

Love you dearly,


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