Whisper Sweet Nothings in My Ear

I figure any one reading this blog stuck with me through some looonnngggg, serious posts in the last few weeks. So, I've self-declared this short(ish)(er?), funny(ish)(hopefully?) post week.

My mother always told me that pillow talk is sacred. But, I'm still giggling and I just can't resist. I bring you pillow talk, anyparents style.

Soft light filters in the open window. A breeze finally blows through our suffocating, unairconditioned upstairs, assisted into greater life by the ceiling fan directly above our bed. The sheets are relatively clean. The children are silent. I shift and sigh, settling into the comfort of my pillow.

Me: I smell poop. Did you leave a dirty diaper somewhere?
Him: No, that was me again.
Me: Sheesh. Having trouble today?
Him: No, you're just hypersensitive today.
Me: I am not hypersensitive, you've been crop dusting and clearing rooms all day.
Him: Hyper. Sensitive. It barely escapes my butt and BAM! You're on me.

(Pregnant pause.)

Me: Like flies on shit?
Him: ....
Me: Uncontrollable, choked (the kids are sleeping) laughter.
Him: I'm glad you amuse yourself so much.
Me: Me too.
Me: Goodnight.
Him: Goodnight.

That sound you hear is the sound of romance rolling over in it's grave. Dead and gone, two kids ago. And yet, the love remains.