This kid.

Four years.

 

Holy shit, you guys, I’ve been with this kid for four years.

I stole his last name three years ago.

 

THIS KID:

#StillCrazyAfterAllTheseYears

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The kid who makes my food. And only usually sometimes complains about it.

Having a personal chef is nice. But sometimes they disagree.

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The kid who falls asleep on me more frequently than most sloths.

 

The kid who goes with me to the doctor and then carts (literally) my sorry, high ass around Target.

Post-op Target run.

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The kid who may be AN ACTUAL GODDAMNED MODEL.

I married a supermodel.

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The kid who apparently (?) likes to make meals out of my ear and/or hair.

A couple of goofballs decided to go outside.

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This kid, you guys. He’s the biggest dorkĀ around. And I love him to pieces.

My husband is adorable. He disagrees.

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Happy anniversary, goofball. I love you. Don’t ever stop being your ridiculousĀ self.

Three years. THREE. YEARS. How is this possible? I feel like we've only just begun.

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