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: 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.
* 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