"Becky, did you happen to wash a load of my shirts with something, um, glittery?"
Will came out of our bedroom, into the darker hallway, with a flash of light twinkling off his work shirt. I had been in the kitchen throwing together his lunch. Although the sandwich sat half-made on the counter, I left it to go see what he was talking about. His shirt was twinking all over.
"Oh, yeah. Ha. Ha. I guess I should rethink that whole mixing our dirty clothes in with Katie's idea." I walked up and started picking flecks of glitter off him like an alpha female chimp might pick nits off her alpha male. Grooming to soothe an uncertain reaction.
Will did not go apeshit on me. This guy's not my dad. No one's shouting and cussing and throwing shirts on the floor. When I managed to look away from the glitter to see Will's face, I smiled because he was smiling.
Katie entered the far end of the hallway, asking, "What's going on?"
"Oh, Mommy accidentally washed one of your glittery dresses with Daddy's work shirts," I explained.
Katie walked up and began picking glitter nits off her dad, too.
"Do you want me to wash it again? Maybe that will help." I asked.
Will brushed the palms of his hands across his chest and belly, smiling further, and took off toward the door. "Nah. Don't worry about it."
"Wait! Your lunch!" I ran into the kitchen where I briefly looked at how much work I still had to do assembling the sandwich, decided to ditch that project, and turned to the leftovers in the fridge. I threw them into Will's lunch box, whether they went together or not. When I shut the lid it let out a little sound like it was exhaling.
I handed it off at the front door as we kissed goodbye. Will leaned over and kissed Katie, then walked down the driveway to his car to head off to work, all asparkle.
What a great man. Glitter daddy.