My wife is so considerate. She’s always so polite and dainty like a Victorian lady twirling a parasol. Unless she happens to be wrestling a particularly stubborn pickle jar or battery compartment, then she’s more like a sailor-mouthed ex-con with anger management issues. But mostly it’s pinkies out and poots in private. Too cute.

Regarding the battery life pictured: I know it’s dumb, but can someone please tell me at what age I’ll be able to see the number 69 without chuckling to myself?
 

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Previous “My Wife Just Said…”
Ahhhh, all of your kid’s firsts.

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