I Love You and You and You and You

File under "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em": last night we had our first annual Valentine's Day Family Picnic. Since this is Canada and there is 20cm (8'") of snow outside, we laid out a blanket out on the livingroom floor, put on a CD of Disney love songs, and threw open all the drapes. I carefully laid out paper plates with red heart doilies, a bottle of sparkling grape/peach juice, and a beautifully arranged tray of food (pizza & grilled cheese sandwiches for the kids, and calamari salad, fresh baguettes and brie for the adults). My husband played with the kids in the other room, and when I was done, they came thundering in and stopped in awe.

It's so innocent, how they are amazed by the littlest things - Joey kept raving "this is the best picnic EVER!" I watched as my usually sloppy, careless son carefully placed food all around his doily, to keep it from getting dirty. And the twins were huge fans of the sparkling juice, laughing their asses off as it tickled their tongues and their noses. I remember thinking "what cute little winos in training!"

My husband was the best, constantly moving plates to keep little feet from trampling the food, offering children tastes of new and strange items (we laughed at the disgusted faces they made), and pouring out 'champagne' on demand. And with each bite I took of my sinfully delicious calamari, Joey was over my shoulder commenting: Bite...EW! Bite...EW! Bite...EW! But then came the fruit and dip, and then dessert, and suddenly everyone was in agreement.

After their fill of cake & brownies, strawberries and pineapple and chocolates, the kids ran off to play, and my husband and I were alone. Amidst the mess of paper plates, mushed doilies, empty bottles, smeared pizza, a stained blanket, a ransacked cake and spilled juice, two people held hands.

And they were in love.