One day a year, on Super Bowl Sunday,we celebrate Man Day. You see, when Honey became friends with bestie S's Mister, he was superbly jealous of his Man Day. So a few years ago I caved and granted Honey's wish for his very own Man Day. It goes just as you'd expect:
I get the littles up and ready for Sunday school (the only praying Honey does on Man Day is to win his Super Bowl bets) and, before jetting out the door, I prepare a quick tray of milk and doughnuts to leave bedside for when the sleeping beauty deigns to awaken. This occurs at about 10AM.
With the bar stools unloaded, I race back to my side of town, fill up Honey's Jeep with a full tank of gas (that is TRUE love), and arrive back at church just in time to pick up the littles, saying a quick prayer of forgiveness for skipping mass myself.
At this point we head to Taco Bell to load up on fifteen dollars worth of questionable meat and and a Mountain Dew larger than my head. Gasp! Man Day is also the only day of the year I bring a Pepsi product into my home. Once home, we deliver Honey's warm meal to his warm seat on the sofa and I wrestle with the littles to try to keep them as occupied as possible.
Salty Sweet Delish bark, clean up my house, try to pay some bills and grab a lightening fast shower.