Well the honeymoon's over. We had a good run, but that's it.
Since pretty much all three of my readers know my husband, they know that he worships the ground I walk on. While simultaneously plotting devious ways of ascending to the post of ultimate commander of the universe. Of course, he's very brilliant so plotting doesn't take up much mental capacity, so the balance of his time is spent just fostering a environment of weird. In which I am also living.
However, the one constant in my universe is that boobies trump all and as a result I don't get told no. Ever.
Oh, I get asked nicely to wait on some things. I am involved in discussions where my argument doesn't end up being chosen as the winner. But the flat-out "no"? Just doesn't happen.
Until Wednesday. When I was unceremoniously told that NO we could not have pancakes for dinner, because he really wanted grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup.
No dialogue. No pros and cons. Just no.
I know this is just the beginning. He'll use no on other occasions I'm sure. And then where will it end? No place good, that's for sure.
I'm just going to have to get a boob augment. Hopefully that will weight things in my favor again (get it?).
ETA: I did get pancakes the next day. So he's not a total monster. But really! Waiting!!!