So, you all read yesterday’s post, and the general consensus is that Mate is a hero.
I’m down with that shit.
And here’s the thing.
I’m a feminist. I’m all about division of labor. I’m totally against me doing most of the housework–and I don’t.
But when my husband comes home for ten minutes between work and a soccer meeting, I have dinner waiting if I can. When I make dinner on other nights, I call the kids in to come get theirs–but I walk out his dinner, just for him. And if it’s something really tasty, he gets dibs on leftovers.
Because he’s my hero. And a hero should get certain concessions.
And the really cool thing? The kids get it.
So, when McDonalds had no hot chocolate and I told them that I would make hot chocolate when dad got home?
Well, Dad’s a hero.
So it’s no problem.
Mate may never think he’s EVERYBODY’S hero (although he totally is). But I don’t want him to ever have any doubts that he’s mine.
I hope that comes out in my books. To me, that’s sort of what romance is about–even after twenty-eight years.
