This is my husband.
He’s *hiding* under the covers, waiting for me to brush my teeth and do all the girly before-bed things I feel I must.
When I walk back into the bedroom, he’s going to pop out and *scare* me.
I don’t know what I love more- the fact that he thinks he is going to scare me, or the abject horror he will experience when I pretend to have a heart attack after he does.
It’s all fair in love…
