I sarcastically apologized on both accounts and told him if he couldn’t handle fixing things, I’d hire somebody who could.
I tell that story to tell this story: per my previous post, Brad lost his phone and offered to pay the kids to find it.
I spent 30 minutes getting Roo to sleep while they “looked”; no luck.
With God as my witness, I walked out of the baby’s bedroom to the basement, flipped two chair cushions, moved the couch and–thirty seconds after I started searching–had the damn thing in my hand.
Brad, running down the steps: “Honey, I love you. What am I gonna do when you die?”
I know what you’re gonna do before YOU die: replace my bathroom fan.