The Husband’s name is Gregory (not the French version, Grégoire) and he’s a Cancer.
He likes wrestling with Fifty, eating raw meat, sipping Rosé on the beach with Mr. London, and if he had been born a girl, he would have been named, Elodie, so I like to call him that from time to time even though he really doesn’t like it when I do (but I love it!).
Since we’re here, and I’m outing my husband, I’ll tell you some other stuff about him; he’s a great babysitter, there isn’t a kid in the world who doesn’t love him (if you don’t believe me you can ask Aidan and Kirsty and they’ll tell you all about ‘The Manny‘). He insists on eating his cereal out of the beautiful chocolat chaud mugs that French Mommy gave us for Christmas (this drives me batty), and he makes me ‘do the frog’ on a daily basis. (‘The Frog’ is when I jump off the last three steps of the stairs and he catches me. According to Gregory, I look like a frog when I do this, hence the name, ‘the frog’.)
Why am I telling you this? I don’t know. I guess I kind of feel like maybe two and a half years of referring to my husband as The Husband, has kind of been wearing on me (I did ask his permission first). And I’m making his ‘coming out’ be in honor of my 600 followers (OK, it’s 599, but whatever… 599 people have felt compelled to click that blue box on the right and make my day and that’s something worth celebrating).
So anyway, that’s all I wanted to tell you today.
And now you know.