Last night Dad took Mom out for dinner. No, it's not their anniversary. No, it's not her birthday. We're doing Mother's Day with Grandma this weekend. He took her out just because.
If that's not sweet enough for you, guess what else? He brought her flowers. Came home from work with a big bouquet of daisies, and I'm all "How pweshus!" (In a high, squeaky voice.)
Then while they were gone the Sister and I were eating frozen pizza and watching The Princess Bride (good times, good times) and then we got to the scene where Westley is leaving to make his fortune and Buttercup is like "What if I never see you again?" and Westley says that he will always come back for her because "This is true love. Do you think this happens every day?" At which point I turn into a puddle of mush, because...um, because I take any excuse to turn into a puddle of mush these days.
Then when I woke up this morning Scott had written on my Facebook wall telling me that he and his dad got home okay after we met Scott's dad partway through our trip and transferred Scott and his stuff (it's complicated, the way Scott and I go partway home together, but you'll just have to be confused, dear blog readers) and then added that he wants to keep in touch this summer by writing me letters. Letters. By hand. And I'm all, "The cuteness! It kills me!"
All this is to say that I bet my parents, who used to tease me for being a Vulcan, are wondering what strange alien race abducted their daughter and replaced her with this sappy, emotional creature.