Kyle turns 31 today. We spent the entire day shopping for mini-vans. Which is appropriate for a married couple in their thirties, I suppose.
I was kind of hoping we'd buy one today, because 8 years ago today, I bought my Saturn (a few months before we were married) and I always like to say that I bought him a car for his birthday. I would have loved to be able to say that I did that twice.
But we didn't buy a car today, so instead he had to settle for an arm band for his iphone to use while he runs. The irony of his gift is that it was packaged in a gift bag under a pack of jolly ranchers and a tub of swedish fish.
I should mention that he's been running consistently for a while now and I'm really proud of him for keeping up with it. I have not been as consistent as I was at the beginning of the summer. Someone asked us a while ago if we ran together in the mornings . . . to which Kyle replied, "Yep, we just leave the kids at home alone and go out for a jog." Which, in case there was any doubt, was sarcasm. It sounds like a lame excuse, but it really is hard for both of us to fit that kind of thing in . . . with our schedules, at least.
So, happy birthday to Kyle . . . I should probably do something cute like list 31 reasons that I love him, or create an acrostic using his name. But I think all I need to let you is that there's no one I'd rather shop with for mini-vans. He's truly my favorite person ever.