I’m not the world’s most obvious romantic. I don’t really wear jewelry. I don’t get bent out of shape on Valentine’s Day or anniversaries. I don’t go ga-ga over Godiva or loopy over lingerie.
But on each of my children’s birthdays, I am the lucky recipient of the most amazing gesture from my partner in cynicism and life. I receive flowers with the card simply stated, “Thank you for our baby.”
It takes my breath away. Every time.