I'm heading out of town for the weekend (Blathering, here I come!) so Grady and I went on a date last night.  

We went to his favourite restaurant and he ordered the cheesy pasta and I devoured a burger. We coloured the placemat and chatted about Iron Man (obvs). He charmed the waitress into an extra large scoop of chocolate ice cream and then, after wiping up his area with his napkin and then crumpling it up into a ball, waved her over. He handed her the napkin ball, which had a bit of weight to it thanks to a few stray pieces of pasta, and said with an eyebrow wiggle, "here! There's just a little poop in there." 

I froze. The waitress froze. And this, my friends, is life with Grady.