Oh, good lord. I am dying over here. I am melting into a little tiny puddle on the carpet. I will need to be spot-cleaned.
On the couch opposite me, it's bedtime storytime. Husband and Bear are ensconced on the couch with the encyclopedia of airplanes. A sampling:
"Now, this is an F-15, Bear. Do you see these things right here on the wings? They're for... (something or other - I couldn't understand)."
"This one actually moves faster than the speed of sound. When I say something, it *seems* like you hear it right away. But really, it takes a little tiny second for the sound to get from my mouth to your ears. It moves so fast, you can't tell at all. But this airplane? Goes even faster. How cool is that?"
The Bear is absolutely fascinated - there are big arm movements and cries of "Daddy, what does *this* one do? Can I see the inside? Is this like the ones that you work on?" And he's just eating it up. This is something he loves to talk about, and he has her complete attention and total adoration. He's explaining about how afterburners work, and she's just loving it.
This is why I love him. He's such a good father when he wants to be. And there is nothing sexier than a man with a bedtime story and a small girl in pink footie pajamas. Nothing.