Just one more Valentine's Day story. The story isn't actually about Valentine's Day at all. But the story inspired Jack and I to make these for the man of our house:
The story was told to me by Brett's dad, Dean. It's the gosh-darn-it cutest story I've ever heard about my husband. Goes like this:
Dean went into four-year-old Brett's room one evening for the nightly tuck-in. He noticed that little Brett, already in pajamas and under covers, was staring off into nowhere, lost in thought. Dean sat on the bed next to little Brett. He quietly asked, "Brett, what'cha thinking about?"
Little Brett said, "I'm thinkin' about cookies."
Little Brett is all grown-up now, of course. A wife. Two children. A job. A mortgage. A 401(k). A really, really high-end computer for incredibly lifelike gaming. But every night, in the middle of the night, that grown-up Brett will still steal into a dark kitchen, open the pantry door, and grab two cookies. He'll gobble them down with secret sips directly from the milk carton. (He thinks they're secret sips, anyway.)
That's our Cookie Monster. We love him so.