I woke up the other day with a pounding headache.
Not exactly the best way to start the day.
I have a long history of neck issues and I’m a whiner.
So, I was pretty much a barrel of sunshine by 7:30 a.m.
I took a hot bath, got dressed and fixed breakfast for the kids (hey, unwrapping granola bars counts. Don’t judge me).
My hubby left for work and I took Ibuprofen.
I’m telling ya’ll, I was feeling blah. And not just because of the headache. It was a Monday.
But as you know, the show must go on. So, I filled up the kiddie pool outside and sent the kids upstairs to change out of their pajamas. I put on my clown suit and readied for Act I.
The phone rang. It was my hubby. He’d been gone about 15 minutes.
“Hey, there was a package on the bench on the front porch when I left. Are you expecting something?”
“Yeah, it has your name on it. Gotta go.”
I walked to the front door and can I just say if I ever doubted that man’s love for me, I never will again?
Yeah. He gets me.
He knew a large Chick-Fil-A sweet tea would help. Call me silly. But his simple gift spoke volumes to me. Knowing he was rushing to get to work, and taking the time to bring me my favorite mood food, meant the world to me.
I love that man.
And you know what? My head didn’t hurt nearly as bad .
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