Despite crawling into my shell the last 3 weeks due to the longest most nasty cold ever, I still love my man.
He takes care of me when I'm sick.
He makes me laugh. All the time.
He loves his little girl. And makes the perfect "horsey" for her to ride.
He thinks I'm pretty. Although he did laugh at me last night when I tried to be seductive while rubbing lotion on my belly.
He's tall. Seriously. Living with a man who is 6'3" has lots of advantages.
He hugs me for long periods of time. I love a good hug.
He listens to me when I cry. And when I tell him I don't ever want to be pregnant again. He knows that I really do want to have more babies, but he doesn't say that. He just thanks me for sacrificing for him and our family. And then he loves me some more, even though I'm an emotional mess.
He does the dishes and helps with the laundry. Not just sometimes, but all the time.
When I ask, "Can I keep you?" He always says yes.
He's fun to kiss.
I love you, sweet Jeffree.