It's been a long, damn time since I've had a working shower in my bathroom, and I'll be the first to admit (but certainly not the only one to do so) that I've been more than a little bit cranky about the whole business. Basically, every conversation The Dad and I have had this summer has been about the shower. Or lack thereof. I'm not even sure what this particular conversation was about other than the shower.
Me: I don't care. You decide and get it done.
The Dad: Well, I want your input.
Me: You do NOT want my input.
The Dad: Then I don't want to hear your complaints later on.
Me: {snort}
Daughter 2 {sneaking around the corner of the bathroom}: Are you going to get a divorce?
Me: No way.
The Dad: Not all all.
Daughter 2: Well, I was just going to say that if you were getting a divorce, then I would want to live with whichever one of you would take me to get a shaved ice.
The Dad: Baby, we are not getting a divorce.
Me: I'm just very frustrated, Honey, but I still love your daddy and have no intentions of divorcing him.
Daughter 2: Well, just in case you do, remember: Shaved ice gets me.
