Matt was treating me for an ingrown toenail. I know, it’s gross, but he really loves me and I just had a pedicure today so…

ANYWAY. My toe hurt so bad I couldn’t stand it. We’re talking white-hot, searing, eye-watering hurt here. I’m limping around and grimacing, being oh so very brave, I was. I didn’t complain or whine or even mention it. I just carried on with my tasks of the evening, cooking, cleaning, generally saving the universe from evil on an hourly basis. But still, I said nothing of my pain. It was really touching. But somehow, he notices anyway. He wants to take a look at it. He sterilizes my pedicure nail tool set thingamabobber and whips out his Surefire flashlight. It was all very MacGyver-y of him. So I’m sitting in the living room with my feet up on the ottoman, Matt is bending over my right foot with flashlight and nail file in hand — stabbing -STABBING my toe like there was no tomorrow. I’m moaning in excrutiating pain and Matt is making little man-grunting noises that sound like, “Shup! Me Man. Me Work. You woman. You hush.” But that could have been just my imagination. That’s when Jacob walked in.

“Uh, what are you guys doing?”
I can’t say anything. All I can do is stifle the scream of pain that wants to escape my mouth so therefore my fist stuffed halfway in my mouth is perfectly logical. I turn and look at him through wide, pained eyes.
Without missing a beat, however, Matt says,
“I’m punishing her for her behaviour.”

—-

Jacob sighed loudly and deliberately and escaped through the front door, barely looking over his shoulder to say, “Good luck with that.”

Ah, Matt. Warping our children’s minds in new and exciting ways each and every day. He’s *very* devoted. I’m wondering if that could be the reason Jacob is spending more and more time out of the house since he turned 15?