After an evening passed in the company of a scented candle, placed strategically between myself and the GH so as to mask/kill/distort/intercept the unusually putrid farts emanating from the man I dearly love, we headed off to bed. I guess we were noisy because both the Girl and the Baby, who still sleep in our room, woke up at once. We quickly decided that he would resettle the Girl and I would deal with the Baby. I always get the Baby when she wakes up, because I have breasts.
Laying next to the Baby and nursing her back to sleep I heard the GH whisper from across the room to the mostly asleep Girl "Are you okay Girl, did you have a bad dream? Did daddy fart? Did the paint start to peel?" and then, in his best gollum imitation, "It burns, it burns!"
It's harder to get babies back to sleep when your body is shaking with uncontrollable laughter.
This morning, at what appeared to be dawn, the Boy came to my bedside and whispered, so as not to wake the Baby, "I saw the sticker on the dishwasher mommy that shows that they are clean and so I unloaded the dishwasher."
"You unloaded the dishwasher?"
(This is not one of his normal jobs, he's never done it before that I know of.)
"Yep, I saw that the dishes were clean and then I took them out and I put them away, all the plates and bowls and glasses. And I put the containers away in the cupboards. I did a good job putting the dishes away because I wanted to help you."
"Thank-you buddy. Thank-you so much. Wow, good job!"
"Yeah, I did good didn't I? I love you mom."
"I love you too."