boys. pajamas. babies.

Currently the Guns and I are visiting/living with another couple while we’re in Fort Worth.  Last week the boys were out one night.  Doing boy things (hauling rocks. playing hockey.  no, really.).  And so, naturally the girls decided to spend the evening at Cici’s Pizza.  I wasn’t feeling so great, so it was wonderful to stuff my face with pizza and talk incessantly for 2 hours straight.  When everyone returned home I remarked to The Guns…

Me:  It was a good night for the boys to be away.

The Guns: Oh yeah?  What did you guys do?

Me: We went to Cici’s Pizza–

The Guns:  You did????  Without me?

Me: You don’t even like it.

The Guns: But you didn’t tell me you were going there.

Me:  Well we did, and we talked for like 2 hours straight.

The Guns: about what?

Me: Oh, you know.

The Guns: Boys?  Pajamas?  Babies?

Yes, The Guns.  Exactly that.

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One thought on “boys. pajamas. babies.

  1. He is also under the impression that, when left alone with other girls, we have pillow fights in our underwear. I swear he made that comment to me one time.

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