little things

Love from a man’s perspective:
Love is climbing out of a warm bed at night and checking to see if all the doors are locked when you think you hear something.
Love is giving you the slice of pizza with two pieces of pepperoni on it when I love pepperoni.
Love is acting excited over a $72 piece of needlepoint canvas you bought when we both know you haven’t finished the quilt, the pillow top, the kitchen curtains and the latch-hook rug.
Love is being mad at the kids the same time you’re mad at them.
Love is moving the car seat up as far as it will go when I get out, so you don’t have to do it.
Love is painting the room together and letting you use the roller once in a while while I do the windowpanes.
Love is never remembering which birthday you’re celebrating.
Love is never going on a diet when you’re fat.
Love is refraining from telling you how the thermostat works.
Love is a lot of little things that add up to caring. It doesn’t always add up to three little words. Sometimes, it adds up to six: I got your tank filled up today.

Erma Bombeck