Mr. Ward sends me e-mails including leg kicks and fist pumps that brighten my day.
Mr. Ward wears his vintage Phillies hat, while listening to music I don’t understand, petting Bauer, and watching highlights on ESPN 3.
Mr. Ward doesn’t even blink when I ask him if we can move to Portland, and then Boston, and then Vermont.
Mr. Ward would always go with wilderness scruff, but shaves so he can kiss me. He must be crushin’ hard!
Mr. Ward makes me laugh every time he orders a skinny cinnamon dulce latte, with extra cinnamon. Delicious and o, so manly!
Mr. Ward created the, “if we mess it up, we’ll go buy a five dollar hot n’ ready rule”. Therefore I feel free to mess up dinner on a regular basis. Who knew Penne a La’ Betsy wasn’t meant to have a cajun twist?
Mr. Ward is my beloved! I am one lucky wife!