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Me: *yawn* ’Night. I’m off to bed.

Husband: It’s 11:00pm. I thought you were going to get to bed earlier?

Me: Yes. BUT.

Me: I was doing something really very extremely important.

Husband: That right?

Me: Yes. And also, time-critical.

Husband: You were reading Dear Prudence?

Me: NO!

Me: I did that this morning.

Husband: Go on then -what was it?

Me: I would tell you, except I’m concerned you won’t appreciate the grave importance-

Husband: All right*.

Me: Ok then; I was looking up elf outfits for Finn.

Husband: . . .

Me: For Christmas.

Husband: You can’t make your child a prop**!

Me: Ooh, I think you’ll find I totally can.

Me: There’s the CUTEST little elf suit on Trademe, but it’s to fit age 3-6 months. Why, why couldn’t Finn have been born four to seven months LATER? Damn him.

Husband: You’re not one of these people who send out cards with pictures of their kids dressed up, are you?

Me: No, no; I already have an idea for our Christmas cards.

Husband: Which is?

Me: Finn as Scrooge holding a sign which says ‘Fuck Christmas’.

Me: What d‎’you think?

Me: Genius, huh?

Husband: And you’re going to send this out to your family, are you? And my grandparents?

Me: No, I’ll send them the card with Finn in his elf suit. Hey, that reminds me; we must get a Santa hat for our dog-

Husband: We already have one.

Me: CLASS.

 

 

* It annoys the crap out of me when Husband pretends like he doesn’t hang on my every word.

** I have no idea what Husband thought this was all about

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