Yesterday was our wedding anniversary. Eight years ago today, Dane and I were on a plane; eight years ago yesterday, we exchanged vows in front of a few hundred of our closest friends and family members, as well as a fair number of people we’d never met before (mostly of the “I remember when Dane was a baby…” variety); eight years ago the day before THAT, we were, I don’t know, stuffing party favors or something, probably.

And zero years ago yesterday, I was trying to swipe a choking hazard out of Audrey’s hand before it reached her mouth, and instead managed to poke her in the eye. She, reasonably, burst into tears, sobbing, “Want Dada! Want Dada!”

“That’s right,” Dane told her when he got home a bit later, “Daddy doesn’t poke you in the eye. Because Daddy loves you.”

And I kindly resisted poking HIM in the eye. Seeing as it was our anniversary and all.

(And now I’ll have to get Dane to read this post to assure me it’s clear that we were both joking. Which it probably isn’t. But we were. Clearly.)