We left the airport, and headed to my Dad's house. Exhausted.
"Bad news, we have to stop."
He looked over, irritated. "Can't it wait?"
"Well, probably. I mean, I haven't worn deoderant in 3 days, so what's a few more?"
Horrified, he crossed 3 lanes, and pulled over immediately, into the grocery store parking lot.
I elected to stay in the car with the sleeping baby (as her food source, I am the first line of defense against grumpiness).
"What kind should I get you?"
"But which one??"
"Anything that smells better than my armpits."
I'm pretty sure he puked a little in his mouth.
Ah, marriage. Where you tell the truth, and the other person can only run so far...