When my mom asks what he got me for my birthday, I say earrings. Because I can’t say vibrators.
To my husband: Our eight-month-old son doesn’t have a “hog.”
Him: “Did we get married in an Episcopal church?”
Him: “Whatever. Either way, it’s wrong.”
Him: “Maybe sometimes I want to be the little spoon. Sue me.”
Him changing our son’s diaper:
Him: “OLIVER, YOUR ASS IS AN AFFRONT TO GOD.”
At Starbucks, he pretends to pummel me in the stomach.
Me: “Could you not? People are going to think you beat me.”
Him: “I’M SHOWING YOU HOW KANGAROOS PUNCH!”