It's Friday night and the kids are tucked in and Scott's in the kitchen cleaning up after our typical Friday night extravaganza (that includes bottles of wine and lots of cheese, bread, fruits + fancy meats).
I'm in here, in our bedroom with our internetal computery machines and he's in the kitchen with the sink.
And the dish. Es.
And he's got some song cranked to keep him company.
For clean up. And all.
From the kitchen I hear fingers snapping.
Like, as in 80's Molly Ringwald-the Breakfast Club dancing.
and head bobbing.
So, I'm in here and he's in there.