Ah, romance. And nothing says romance quite like walking in to the nursery after your beautiful 3-year-old child has woken up from his (very long) nap to find him completely, and I mean completely, covered in "Montezuma's revenge", if you catch my drift. Yes, not only was my child covered in poo, and the absolute worst type of poo, but his sheets, his comforter, and all of the twenty or so stuffed animals that he insists on sleeping with -- all covered in poo as well.
Not exactly what I had in mind for celebrating six years of wedded bliss, but hey, I'll take time with my two favorite boys any way I can get it, I guess. And I suppose it is just a good example of what romantic love eventually blossoms into -- a much deeper, more substantial kind of love that gets you through six years of marriage, of growing together as not only husband and wife, but as parents -- the type of love that gets you through even the pooey-est moments in life.
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