Tay and I have this funny little thing going.
I always come up with great ideas
he always comes up with bad ideas
and then, he always tries to convince me it's the other way around . . . that boy!
I don't remember what it started with, but it goes something like this:
T: Do you want to put the plastic trash bags out under the tree before I bring it in here?
S: It's always such a hassle to cut those things and then vaccuum around them, I'd be ok with not doing them this year. Would you?
T: Great, I've always thought they were ridiculous anyway! Help me bring the tree in.
S: Wait, What?! You've always thought they were ridiculous? Then why do I always do them every year? I thought you wanted them there in case the water leaked out onto the carpet?
T: HAHA! No, I'm pretty sure the first year we were married that I rounded the corner and I saw you carefully cutting the trash bags down the middle and meticulously laying them under where the tree stand was about to go. I didn't question what you were doing because I thought you must like having that extra protection for the floor.
S: No, I'm just sure that you were the one to request that we put bags down. If you didn't request it, you at least were the one to suggest it.
T: No, bukes, I never initiated the thought process on this subject. (this is the point where he cuts his eyes at me and then looks at the floor and does a sweet smile and shakes his head slowly)
S: I'm just sure of it being your idea!
T: No, bukes :) it wasn't.
S: Think what you want, Bukes, but it was your idea. Anyway! I'm glad we've now both come to the realisation that those bags are just not necessary! 4 less steps for me now! Ok, let's bring the tree in.
T: Bukes, it wasn't my idea, ok?
S: No, it really was. I know I didn't come up with it. I'm just glad we are now both on the same page about it, though.
T: Bukes . . .
T: Phelps is such a cool name. I really am so glad we decided to call him that.
S: Me too! He's the best. Such a buddy. And, I love it when you love my ideas!
T: BUUUUUKES, the name Phelps was not your idea. (insert eyes movement, smile and head shake here)
S: NO WAY! Are you kidding me? I absolutely was the one to throw that into the pot!
T: Oh my goodness! Really, you're going to do this again?! I DEFINITELY came up with the idea for calling our new puppy Phelps.
S: No. Trust me. I am sure of it! I was the one to suggest it! You, remember, it was August of 2008 and Michael Phelps had just won the 8th Gold Medal and the next day we went to the Humane Society and got a puppy and we brought him home. We were throwing out a million name ideas and I, without a doubt, was the one to voice the idea, "how about Phelps?"
T: You are ridiculous, Bukes. Do, you know that? You are completely confused.
S: What are you talking about? You always talk about how good my memory is! How many details I can recall!
T: Do you realize that you do this? This little thing of taking credit for whenever there is a good idea. But, whenever there is a bad idea, you blame it on me that I was the one to come up with it. You are mistaking how you remember things taking place.
S: I think you are the confused one here. Sorry, Buka. You are wonderful and you are my favorite husband and you bring me such laughter in situations like these, but you are in every way, not the one who came up with this idea.
B: Bukes . . .
I will definitely be sure to tell you of all the other good ideas I come up with . . . many more blog posts to come! But out of upmost respect for my husband I will not embarrass him by sharing all of his bad ideas. I love him too much.
Until then you can view the "after" of pig-tail days!