My Mom still does baskets for all of us.  Only now, instead of 4 kids, it's her 4 kids, my husband, whatever boyfriends/girlfriends are in evidence, and 2 grandkids.  That is a lot of candy and toys and pure silliness. 

We love it.  And Mom, learned one year, if you don't put bubbles in our baskets, we are sad.  No, it doesn't matter that the youngest of the 4 kids are 20, we need bubbles.  You can't have a tradition for 20some years then just release it to the world. 

It's not just basket from Mom^h^h^h the Easter Bunny, Tony and I do baskets for one another.  We started our first Easter together and have followed through ever since. 

This year was no different, baskets for one another, I overdo it, way overdo it as a matter of fact.  But, hey, I love my husband and he needs chocolate. 

I'm not kidding if he goes too long without chocolate he is a mess, I swear he is missing some sort of chemical that is only available through chocolate.  So I provid chocolate and toys and a useful basket.  This year's is a popcorn bowl, one that will hold an entire bag of microwave popcorn at one time. 

Mine, though, hee, I happen to have the most incredibly romantic husband on the planet.  You see, every year I give up something for Lent.  It's the Catholic in me, if I don't give something up, I just don't feel right.  Well, a lot of year's it is potato chips. 

I love potato chips.  I could eat them 3 times a day, everyday, and never tire of them.  There is no snack food better than a potato chip. 

This year, I hadn't had potato chips for 2 days prior to the start of Lent.  I sucked it up and went on.  No chips for 42 days.  None, not a single chip passed my lips. 

Well, we tend to do our 'holidays' right after midnight, as soon as it is officially the date.  That way we can do Christmas or Easter or whatever, alone, prior to the family celebrations.   

I gave him his basket, and he handed me potato chips.  A can of Lays' Stacks.  A can of Pringles' Original.  And a can of Pringles' Sour Cream and Onion.  How, sweet is that?  Not only did he remember that I gave up chips but he bought me chips for Easter. 

A few drips of some odd, clear fluid leaked from my eyes.  I teared up over potato chips, y'all.   My husband is a sweetheart of a man.  Not only were there chips, but dark chocolate, and The Sims Bustin' Out for Camecube.  I love that man.   

That is true romance.  Anyone can do flowers or sappy cards, only a true romantic would remember his wife's love, no obsession, with potato chips and the Sims.  And dark chocolate.  Dove Dark Chocolate.  Yeah, he's mine, no he doesn't have a brother.

It's the little things that remind me of why I married this wonderful man.  Potato chips, leg rubs, bringing me a drink, letting me take a nap while he watches the niece or nephew.

The way he smiles when he walks in the door even when he's only been gone a few minutes.  The kiss he lays on my forehead before we fall asleep at night.

Letting me monopolize the computer when he'd like to be on it.   Or how he washes my glasses for me, when they are spotted from a day of baby wrangling and housecleaning.

How he turns on the back massager that's on my seat in the van when my back is wrecked with spasms.  It's how he wears not only his wedding band, but, my class ring, with pride.

When he lets me watch old reruns of Roseanne even though he hates most of them.  The ice packs he keeps in the freezer for when the elephants are dancing around in my brain.  How he hunts down whatever I need in the kitchen.

The grilled cheese sandwiches when I just can't cook that night.  Stopping by the store, after a 14 hour day when I need something without a complaint.  How he indulges my fantasies of our rich and not so famous years.  

And, how he lies beside me at night, sleeping soundly, yet responding when I hug him in the night.  How he tells me he loves me, even when he is asleep.  All of these things, yet, so much more.  

Plus, you know, the potato chips.
Smile, 
Suzy Smith