I hear typing, typing. Then Larry calls out, "Is Valentine's Day this week?"
Larry: We don't celebrate that, do we?
Me: Um, no.
We've never done the valentine thing. This compelled me to walk into the living room and inquire further.
Me: Why would you even ask that?
Larry: Just checking.
I know what he means. V-day is the sort of event that seems to require some action. The giant wind tunnel of popular culture says: Declare your love on this day, preferably using whole landfills of preprinted cards, and waxy chocolates in big boxes. We've always ignored it. Still, he's prudent to double check. This is good marital communication.
The only reason I know it's Valentine's Day this week is because the kids have to have paper valentines created, signed, labeled and delivered to school by Thursday, or else. Also, there's some sort of holiday celebration at kindergarten that involves cookies and frosting and juice boxes and who knows what all, to be coordinated by parent volunteers. I read the memo of detailed instructions for parents and thought: Holiday? This isn't a holiday; it's a nuisance.
But, then, kids love holidays. The sillier, the better as far as they're concerned. So, it's princess valentines for her and Transformer valentines for him. And through them Larry and I can feel like we got on board the big old valentine bandwagon--in the smallest possible way.