Last night, I left some hard boiled eggs on the counter in a bowl. One of the reasons my husband is perfect for me is his willingness to clean up the kitchen after I have made it into a natural disaster area. I do most of the cooking and tons of baking and he diligently stays a step behind me cleaning up my act. After dinner last night, he inquired if the eggs in the bowl were hard boiled and could he put them in the fridge with the rest of the eggs. Today, I opened the carton to find this scene. This is not the first time my hard-boileds have gained personalities… but is the first time in awhile. The childlike glee I have from finding these eggs is enough to energize me for days. My heart just bursts with love for the man that knows how much these little things mean to me.
