How not to get a Valentine from your husband

Thanks for all the well wishes. I am back in full moderate form. Now that I have thanked my Hub for pulling all the duty around here for days on end, I hope it makes up for this:

Last week while JohnnyMac was getting MiniMac ready for school, it sounded like it was going none too well. Usually a morning person like his Mommy, I was surprised to hear cat- like screeching. Also known as the sounds of a salty toddler. When they came upstairs, JohnnyMac told me MiniMac was grumpy and had actually been grumpy for several mornings in a row.

My response: Kind of like gazing into a tiny mirror, isn’t it?  

His response: None because he is grumpy in the am especially pre-coffee and his mind was not capable of delivering the wise ass retort I had coming.

And then, more recently, my sauté pan was on the counter drying. I picked it up to put it away and noted it was not clean, so I put it in the sink. When JohnnyMac came downstairs later, he told me he washed it the night before. I told him it looked like it needed to be cleaned again. He picked it up and looked at it, stating, “Well, I wonder how that happened?”

I say, as I laugh: You did a bad job the first time?

His response: None because he is grumpy in the am especially pre-coffee and his mind was not capable of delivering the wise ass retort I had coming.

In these ideal opportunities to be a smart arse toward JohnnyMac, I am also hedging my bets that St. Valentine might be a smart ass too. I better be careful. We are T minus two days and counting. 

PS: Saint Valentine, I did Clorox the entire house from top to bottom so you would not catch any bugs upon your visit. Oh, and for the sake of my family too, of course.