Okay, here's how it all unfolded: there I was, minding my own business. I reached for a book and, before I knew what had happened, the cup of milk I wanted to dunk my graham crackers in was lounging all over my pants legs and socks. Well, no, that's not right, either. See, the cup had stayed behind, apparently offering up its contents as some kind of sacrifice or sick joke. At any rate, I was surrounded by milk in every direction. All over the floor, my clothes, my shoes and... my self-esteem.
Who did I call? "My Good Hubby-Buddy!"
Well, no, I didn't exactly say it like that. He does have a nickname, ya' know? "MGHB!"
The point is, the milk hadn't even reached the floor, before his name had attacked his ears. For about half a second, I contemplated how this could possibly be his fault. Fortunately, I tucked that thought safely away for when I would REALLY need it. I say fortunately because I'm sure, if I had tried to blame my good hubby-buddy, he would not have been nearly as helpful as he was. Since I was all sweet and loving and didn't blame him for what was obviously his fault, he helped remove the results of his clumsiness.
In case you're wondering how this became his fault, I should explain that we established years ago that when things go right, I am the hero and when they go wrong, it is his fault. It keeps all that nasty decision-making to a minimum, when a situation calls for our quick thinking.
So, before you find yourself in a similar situation, be sure to have a discussion with your hubby-buddy to establish some ground-rules. If you work it right, he might just think that it was his idea. Then, everybody's happy, right?
Until the next time, keep a hug on.