Happy 24th, Birthday Boy

So Marcus turned twenty-four today and I had this brilliant idea to make him breakfast in bed. Because I’m pregnant and domestic and that’s totally who I am now, right?

Happy 24th, Birthday Boy

Wrong. SO wrong. I burned the toast. The eggs were… questionable. The orange juice had pulp because that’s all we had and he hates pulp. But this man - THIS SWEET, RIDICULOUS MAN - ate every bite like I’d served him something from a five-star restaurant. The whole time our daughter is doing somersaults in my belly, kicking his hand every time he touches my stomach. He just grins and tells her good morning. I swear she recognizes his voice already. The man ate my burnt toast with a smile while our daughter kicked his hand through my belly. That’s either love or brain damage. Either way, I’m keeping him.