Last night, John and I were lying in bed, preparing to go to sleep. You know how it sometimes seems that that's when you think of things you want to talk about? Well, that's me almost every night, much to John's chagrin. The poor guy just wants to go to sleep! Last night was different, though. John wrapped his big, strong arms around me, slid his hand down towards mine, and commented, "Your wrist is so small." And it is, always has been, probably always will be. I remarked, sarcastically, "Yeah, well after having a baby, that's all that's still small on me." And, without missing a beat, John says, "No it's not. Your pinky toe is still small." Then he snuggled into the covers and said, "Good night."

You know, he's got a point.