CC usually has to wait for me. For everything. He’s the most efficient person I’ve ever met and he does about 90% of everything we have to do around the house, even though he mostly always has between one and five children either hanging on him or otherwise clamoring for his attention. Seriously, he’s amazing.
He’s also been dragging my ass to the gym lately. Don’t get me wrong, exercise is often the only thing that keeps my head glued on. Left to my own devices I usually get there three days a week. But some rainy or sunny or cold or hot mornings when faced with the gym or going back to bed and eating cookies, it’s a tough call.
So he’s waiting on me today so we can go to the gym. He’s ready. I have to get dressed. I have to brush my teeth. I have to check something online. I have to put on a shirt over a shirt because I feel fat. I have to put on lipgloss, and tell myself that it’s like chapstick. I have to check something else online. Finally, I’m ready.
Then he says he wants to switch the laundry. I stand on the landing watching him. He goes in the laundry room.
CC: Crap, this is all ours. I have to bring it all upstairs.
(The kids semi-handle their own laundry, under duress)
CC: Crap, there are no baskets.
There never are baskets (see the above parenthetical element). He passes me with an armful of laundry. Unlike me, he doesn’t drop any of it. He does nine others things in like a minute and a half and gets another load started and I tell him he’s amazing.
Me: You’re amazing.
CC: I’m not as amazing as you think. I should have done this while I was waiting on you.
He passes me again. Comes back downstairs. He’s finally ready. He smirks at me, and laughs because I’m waiting on him for a change.
CC: How’s it feel?
Me: Watching you do all the work? Fantastic.