This morning I went out at the strike of 8:00 to mow the yards and I discovered that the mower was out of gas.
There are two gas cans in the garage and one of them contains a gas/oil mix for something other than the mower.
Although it has been a long time since some poor son of ours used the wrong gas can to fill the mower, I remember the consequences of that particular error and I feel my muscles tighten and my heart beat fast at just the thought of making it myself.
I texted Prince Charming:
"Big gas can for the mower?"
I wondered why he wasn't responding, as he had sent me a text just moments earlier, so I sent a teasing text.
I pulled out the large gas can, which I suspected was the mower gas, and discovered this:
I filled the mower and mowed both our big yards.
I watered the plants and flowers.
I pulled some weeds.
I came inside and took a shower.
I ate breakfast.
Still no answer.
So I sent another text.
"Don't worry about the mower gas questions. I used the small can. Apparently it was the wrong one, because half way through doing the back yard the mower blew apart. Thankfully, none of the pieces hit me, but one did go on the roof. I got out the big ladder and was going up to get it, but I got too close to that crepe myrtle where that big mockingbird has her nest. She dive-bombed me and it scared me so badly I lost my footing and fell. Nothing broke, but it knocked me senseless and Hannah called an ambulance. By the time we got to the hospital, I was coming around. The EMT asked me what had happened and I told him the whole story. He just held me in his arms and said..."
The Prince replied.
And I finished the story.
"Oh, you precious, beautiful woman. I would have answered your text."
It was only a split second before his response came.
"I've always told you that you deserved better."
And now you know why I call him Prince Charming.