Five

Today is our (mine and my husband's) fifth anniversary. By the secular date--by the Hebrew date, it's Wednesday.

I mentioned this to my husband a week or so ago--fair warning and all. He was sitting at the computer putting together a worksheet for his Chumash class. "Hey, five years!" I mused.

He didn't actually look at me, but did sort of incline his head in my general direction while continuing to type. "Five years of what?"

To his credit, he reacted quite appropriately when I informed him that I'd been talking about the five years of WEDDED BLISS he has thus far enjoyed with his WIFE, namely ME. He not only stopped typing, but turned around completely and said, "Ohh. I'm in trouble now, aren't I." No, not really. I didn't marry you for your romanticism.

What I did marry him for, though, became evident (again) a few hours later. Abba was in the bathroom checking in on Barak, who had been sitting on the toilet playing with his Columbus trucks. (He likes the truck aspect of potty trips, so sometimes will hang out in there much longer than required by nature.) By the time Abba went in there, though, Barak was done, wiped, hands washed and in pajamas. Abba was taken aback. "Who helped you get dressed?"

"Imma helped me." (I'm overhearing this from the kitchen.)

"Oh. Imma wiped you too?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, Imma's awesome. I thought I was going to do that. Isn't Imma awesome!"

"Yeah!"

"Do you have such an awesome Imma? You should tell her that, you know. It's very important to tell Imma that she's awesome. It makes Imma feel good and it's a mitzva. You should always tell Imma that she's the awesomest."

And I'm pretty sure he didn't even realize I was listening in.