You dance with me at weddings, even though you hate dancing. And weddings. When you read this, you’ll start to say, “I don’t hate weddings,” but you kind of do, and that’s okay. You go and you dance with me anyway.
In winter, when you hop in the car first, you automatically turn on both seat warmers – yours on full blast, mine on half – because the first time we ever used them (five years ago), I commented that I found the full blast too hot. You remember that every year.
When I’m trying my best to keep my cool with a stubborn toddler, you see through me and always know when I need you to step in, saying exactly what I need to hear – “Go take a break; I got this.”
As a father, you are everything that our children will ever want or need. I am privileged to be your partner in parenting.
You pinch your nose when you are frustrated, you shake your knee when you are restless, you stick your tongue out at me when you are feeling silly, you cock a crooked half-smile when you know a camera is on you, and a dimple-filled full smile the rest of the time.
You are the worst secret keeper. …Well, that’s not exactly true – you are just the worst at keeping secrets from me. You’ve spoiled many birthday and Christmas presents shortly after purchase (heck, the day after I got home from a trip, you burst out and told me you ordered me an engagement ring while I was away), but I adore that you are so excited you can’t hold it in.
In that same vein, you know that I love surprises. So you are planning something for us to do together in mid-June, and I’ve avoided asking any questions about it, because I know it’s killing you not to just tell me already. Thank you for trying to keep this secret – I’m excited!
You bring Thea (and sometimes flowers) to my office for regular visits. Easily the best part of any work-week.
You love my family and I love yours, and I especially love that family introduced us (in part because that means I’ve always known you as they know you – “Luke”).
You enjoy a good debate and our conversations are endlessly entertaining and often intellectually stimulating. You challenge me and teach me and even occasionally admit when you are wrong. You also just smirked/scoffed at that last part.
Today is our 5th wedding anniversary. Time flies when we are playing Crazy Train (“Froggy Song”) and Tangled (“Rapunzel Movie”) on repeat/attending a Rider-Stamps game/building a sandbox (among countless other home projects)/welcoming another nephew to the family/continuing to make time for monthly date nights/talking non-stop with a chatty toddler/expanding our family/celebrating a retirement/enjoying all the little happy things.
Tonight, we are keeping things simple with dinner and a movie, and then next week you are taking me to see one of my favourite comedians (John Mulaney). In the next year we embark on new adventures as a family of four.
We’ve known each other more than eight years now, and we’ve never run out of things to say or tired of each other’s company.
Lastly, you read this entire letter, even though you dislike reading. Okay, maybe you scanned through a few parts, but you made it to the end nonetheless. I love you for this, that, and so many other things. Happy fifth anniversary, Husband.