I married him so you all don’t have to

QUICKIE:  Vincenzo: “Mom, when I’m four I’m going to be happier because four-year-olds don’t cry as much as three-year-olds.”
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Things you miss if you’re not married to my husband:

Me, opening the door to our office: It sounds like there’s a squirrel in there.  What are you doing?
Kevin: Pretending to be a squirrel.

Kevin: I’m going out back to take out some bushes.  Wanna come?
Me: No thanks.
Kevin: What?!  And miss the gun show?  [rolls up sleeves and flexes muscles]

Or there was the time we were walking side by side and let one rip, simultaneously jetting a few steps ahead of me.  “Propulsion farting,” he explained.  (I would have spent the rest of the walk a few feet distanced from him, had I not been downwind.)

Of course, the topic of farting always reminds me of the first time we ever said “I love you.”  We had been dating for a few weeks when Kevin explained his theory that when a girl first farts in front of a boy or vice versa, it’s a confession of love.  It shows that the girl (or boy) is comfortable in body, mind, and spirit when in the presence of the other.  After he explained this, Kevin sat back and waited.  He didn’t have to wait long.

The next week we went on a walk and I swear I had NO SIGNS that there was anything brewing in my nether regions–no pressure, on pains, no nothing, when suddenly ZZZZPPPPT!  There it was.  Kevin flashed me a most amorous look, took my hand, and let out an equally impressive ZZZZPPPPT right on the spot.  “No no no!” I protested.  “That was premature!  I didn’t mean it!  I take it back!  Can’t gas just be gas?“

But the damage was done.  I realized then that I would someday sound like Marty’s mother in Back to the Future when she tells the story of her peeping tom husband and says something like, “And that was when I knew I’d spend the rest of my life with him.”

WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Gobs of leftovers