Mr. Wonderful is my heart’s desire. God gave me such a gift in him, that I can’t have deserved.
I am parched all the time. Probably because I don’t remember to (or because of the kids, can’t) drink enough water during the evening when I’m home. So when I can’t stand it anymore, I’ll ask Mr. Wonderful (who never sits down, ever!) if he’ll fetch me a glass of water. He does. and I guzzle the water down. I then hand the cup back, asking why he brought me an empty cup. It’s a joke he didn’t find funny for years, but now is endearing to him.
Last night when that scene played out, I stopped to realize just how much Mr. Wonderful means to me. Nobody else would put up with my tantrums, impatience, or snottiness. And nobody else has such a silly sense of humor to pull me out of those ugly moods and stress freak-outs.
In short, I LOVE Mr. Wonderful, and I don’t care who knows it.