Not just because he didn't get totally livid with me for having to raise our pedestal sink an inch because we raised the floor when we tiled, and it didn't fit anymore.
Not just because he said "do whatever you want" in my craft room. (He said that, seriously).
Not just because when he is home, he can be found:
(psssst: he moves the furniture! Look-- he stacked the ottoman's over there! But you know, I. . . um, do that um, too . . .)
(Dude, he vacuumed the stairs today!)
And that he let me take this picture.
NO QUESTIONS ASKED. He's so used to my weirdo ways, he dropped his drawers, let me snap one pic and one pic only, had 'em back up before you could say "boxer briefs", and walked away.
But. BUT. He will not allow me to "Young Me Now Me" him.
See, I had it all planned out. What shirt he was wearing-- everything.
These need to be reenacted.
Need. And he will have no part of it. Why? Is it the haircut? The holes in the knees?
The "I'm Satan's-little-helper" smile? Not sure.
Well, I'll keep trying. He'll crack. Puh-chhhh. (that's a whip crack sound).