The Fabricators

I just got home from pack meeting where Fabricator No. 1 told the nice couple that lives down the street, "my mom has shawp knives. She cuts my fingews with them."



She also kept telling me yesterday that "Forrest threw Grant down the staiws." Grant is my cousin's toddler who was over here yesterday but absolutely did not get thrown the stairs by Forrest. Unless I totally missed it. Which is a possibility but I'm 99% sure it didn't happen.

Fabricator No. 2.



This one keeps telling me that I fed him peanut cake and that that is why he keeps coughing. Seriously. When I tell him that the only only only time he has had peanuts was when he was a baby he tells me that what I am telling him is just not true.

Nine Years??

Seriously, nine years?

It seems like yesterday these clueless lovebirds tied the knot.




At the tender age of 21, I knew I loved Quinn. I knew he was a good man. I also knew he was handsome, hilarious, responsible, courageous and kind. But I had no idea how I would feel about him 9 years into it.

I could never have imagined how much my love for him would increase in 9 years. How I would love the crow's feet that now creep up around his eyes when he smiles at me. Or how proud of him I would be for working his arse off to get his Engineering degree so he could take care of his family. Or how my heart would melt at the site of him staring into the face of a newborn baby. Or how he would wake up at 5:30 in the am on our 9th anniversary so there would be beautiful flowers waiting for me on the kitchen table when I woke up.



What can I say? I'm still head over heels for the guy.

Here we are today. A bit older but also a bit wiser.



Happy 9th babe. Here's to 999,999,999,999,999... more.

Love,
Mae