Last night, I lay in bed hopped up on stolen candy and nursing a bad case of the giggles. Sugar buzzes are a bitch.
“How much do you love me?” I asked my husband, coy and flirtatious as only a fat, 40 year old mommy can be.
Sensing a request for water, or to check for the 5th time that the pumpkins were indeed extinguished, he sighed with truly heroic forbearance. “Why?”
“Would you help me build a TARDIS?”
“I’m thinking we should change up our decorations next year, go Doctor Who themed!”
“What are you going to build it out of?”
Heavy, heavy sigh. “I love you. A lot. More than you can ever imagine. Forever and ever, amen.”
“Where’s the but?”
“The ‘I love you, but…'”
“Just this one.” Yes, he grabbed my butt.
“So we can build a TARDIS?”
“Hmmmm.” Sounds like an agreement to me!
“I’m going to look for plans tomorrow. I want one that lights up. And whirrs. We should probably find cutouts of the Doctors. And maybe a Dalek. We could BUILD a DALEK! Oooo, and a Cyberman!”
He thinks I’ll forget this. Fool.