I apologize that I become a giant baby. . . Well wait. I am 5'2". I hardly think you can count that as giant. How about 'overgrown' baby? That sounds better. Anyway, I am sorry I become an overgrown baby when I stub my baby of a toe on the wheel of your suitcase. I wanted to slap a kitten. And thanks for not being too annoyed when you brought me a band aid and I said: "That band-aid is too big for my baby toe." How atrocious.
I'm glad you found my note to you in your sock drawer. You know how horrible I am at keeping surprises secret. Because if you had packed your things to go visit my parents without looking in your sock drawer, I would've made up awkwardly random reasons for you to rummage in your sock drawer. And that just would've been uncomfortable for the both of us.
I'm so excited to have a mini-roadtrip with you this weekend (Don't worry, I already packed the Mad Libs) and to show you my most favorite of museums. And for you to meet the Layla dog. I'm clenching this as a win for us to get a dog. I've already told her that she has to be on her best behavior so we can win you over to the dog lover side. My sister-in-law has even said she may even spring for a new collar for Layla, just to win you over. The jig is up pal, you might as well raise the white flag now.
I love you,
Your New Wife who loves leaving you sweet notes, in your sock drawer, regarding otters and how much she loves you.
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