Gimme a few minutes. …Pft, and I’m not crying or anything. My eyes just obviously have a bladder issue right now. Like, a big one. So if it looks like I’m crying a lot, I’m really not. My eyes just haven’t peed in weeks. But I think that sounds absolutely perfect, and I hope all of it comes true. I want to grow old with you and all that sappy shit. I love you so much. Just. You’re perfect. Anything else that comes out of my mouth at this point will just be sappy mushy stuff so I’m just going to shut up while I’m ahead. Oh hey, don’t cry, silly! Come here, give me a cuddle. And I love you so much, too. More than you’ll ever know. And if all of that doesn’t actually happen, I’ll be sorely disappointed. But it doesn’t matter because as long as I have you and Tommy (and maybe Baby Walker 2.0) in my future, it’s bound to be everything I could ever ask for. And so much more. Hey, by all means, say the sappy mushy stuff. I like sappy mushy stuff.
YOU DO?! WHAT DO YOU IMAGINE OUR FUTURE BEING LIKE? We’re going to be sex position experts by the time we’re finished. Well, I think our next child will be a girl and we’ll probably have her when Tommy’s, like…five or something and he then can be the protective big brother when they grow up. And then we’ll probably get a bigger house with a tree in the garden so the kids can have a tree house and a tire swing. And maybe we’ll get another pet, I dunno. And we’ll probably alternate between going to Paris and the Maldives every year and the four of us will just chill by the pool and take loads of cheesy tourist photos. Then when the kids are teenagers, they’ll fight a lot and backchat but it’ll just be a phase so it’ll be alright. Then they’ll go off to college and you’ll cry but eventually we’d get used to it and maybe actually enjoy the peace and quiet. Then they’ll get older and get married and have kids of their own and they’ll all come round at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And me and you will grow old and then move into a bungalow because the house we have is way too big for little old us and we’ll have a front porch with rocking chairs where we’ll sit and you’ll knit and I’ll read the newspaper and smoke my pipe while the grandchildren play. And that’s pretty much it really. But obviously I don’t think about it too much, I mean, pfft.
Oh yeah, totally. We’ll be able to write our own book.
Good choice. (IT’S CUTE. OUR POTENTIAL FUTURE IS CUTE. IT MAKES ME ALL HAPPY INSIDE THINKING ABOUT IT. Well, we don’t have that much sex. That’s a bit of an exaggeration. I’m sure we’ll still get to all the positions eventually, though). I LIKE THINKING ABOUT THE FUTURE. I THINK ABOUT IT A LOT, ACTUALLY. Yes, I know. I bet we’ll manage just fine.
YES. BUT HUSH YOUR MOUTH ABOUT THEM OR I’LL MAKE YOU KEEP WEARING THEM. (No. Never. YOU’D TAKE HER TO DADDY DAUGHTER DANCES AND WHEN YOU GUYS DO THAT I’D HAVE A MOVIE NIGHT WITH TOMMY. Wow, two books. That’s a lot of sex positions). Okay, I’ll shut up. (YEAH, SO? Well, we have a lot of sex so it works out perfectly). You’re grossing me out. Ew, ew, ew, I don’t want to think about that. (AWWWW. SHE WOULD SO HAVE YOU WRAPPED AROUND HER LITTLE FINGER. I’M NOT GONNA SHUT UP AND YOU CAN’T MAKE ME. Sounds like a good plan, now I just have to buy the book). CAN YOU SEE WHY I HATE THEM THOUGH? (No, shut up. Shh. No. Buy the kama sutra too. I hear that’s fun).
Ew, never call them that again. That’s gross. (AW. You want a daddy’s little girl. How cute. True, let’s do it). That’s why I hate them. They’re literally just bags of semen. It’s awful. (No, shut up. Yes, good, I like this plan).