I hate when I have them.
I’m really enjoying making Tornado E lunches for school. I bake a dessert every weekend. I bought little boxes and containers, even finding a few with cute animal faces. I cut out sandwiches with cookie cutters. I’m still searching for unique and fun menus. I make him a little note with stickers. Everything fits in his awesome metal pirate lunch box.
It’s all very cute and lovely.
Then last night as I finished humming and building a lunch, I thought, “I wish The Husband went to work, and I could make his lunches too.”
AND I could make his lunches too.
Does this mean I have to give up my feminist card? And forget the secret handshake? And break all my Ani DiFranco cds? And burn my “God’s a girl and she’s cute” shirt?
Maybe I just need a stiff drink.