Yesterday, while Chuck took Jeremy to his last day of tutoring, I decided to make a quick run to the grocery store with Jack. It wasn’t my original intention for the afternoon, but hey – sometimes you just get a wild hair and make a unplanned grocery run.
Jack and I got in the car – which Chuck usually drives – and went to Kroger. We succeeded in shaving more than $40 off our grocery bill with coupons and smart shopping and proceeded to the parking lot to load the car.
For a second, I contemplated putting everything in the back seat with Jackson. Instead, I chose to put them in the trunk. I popped the button in the glove compartment and lifted the latch.
Oh crap. There sat what I presumed to be my birthday gift.
For another second, I contemplated closing the trunk and pretending it never happened. Instead, I piled in the groceries and tormented myself all the way home.
The afternoon went on as usual and I started making dinner when Chuck and Jeremy got home. I fidgeted and fumbled and finally decided to spill it.
“I went to the grocery store,” I said to Chuck.
“Okay,” he said. Nothing registered.
“I put the groceries in the trunk,” I hinted.
He paused, then said, “Oh…” Disappointment came over his face.
“I’m so sorry! I feel so bad! I thought I wouldn’t tell you but then you’d notice I parked the car differently and put gas in the tank and then you would know that I went somewhere and…”
“It’s okay. I guess you can just have it now,” he said, turning to head down to the garage.
A minute later he came upstairs hollering, “Boys, tell your mother ‘Happy Birthday!’” and they chimed in on cue.
Many thanks to my sweet man, whose attempts to surprise me still make me swoon.