Have I mentioned lately how amazing my husband is? Well, in case I haven’t…let me just say the man is a wonder.

Since my surgery he’s been SUPERwonder Dad. From doing everything around the house to taking the kids everywhere from hair cuts to birthday parties.

Which leads me to today…and the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout.

I’m normally not an evil bitch, but every time my husband comes home from an outing with the children, I get all frazzled because they have such a good time with no problems.

What do you mean Count Waffles didn’t have a melt down in the produce section?

Really, Princess Peanut didn’t throw the red ball at you because she wanted the blue ball?

It drives me insane. They always seem to be bizzaro kids for him.

Except for today. When the Build A Bear Birthday Blowout had my sweet Kaiser twitching when they walked in the door. It wasn’t so much that the kids were bad, it was just one of those parenting situations where you wish you had never left the house.

The Build A Bear store was the size of a small bathroom stall. It was the Sunday before Valentine’s Day. One of our kids could care less he was there, and the other had no clue what she was supposed to be doing. Cue Chaos.

My defeated and disheveled husband arrived home with two large bear boxes and 40 more gray hairs. He sat in front of me and talked quickly about the too small store and the throngs of people and the clothing and the kids and the holding of the bears and the holding of the kids and the picking out of the outfits for the bears and how the Princess wouldn’t allow the Bear to be dressed and the Count wouldn’t pick a name and he couldn’t carry the boxes and the bears had to be out of the boxes to carry home but the kids wouldn’t carry them, they just insisted they were not boxed.

This went on. And on. And on. He talked and talked and shook his head and put his hands in the air.

It’s not that I was happy, per say. Just relieved it finally had happened to him. Now we can really share some war stories.