I'm driving. It's a sunny day and we're both in good spirits.
"Oh? Okay hon."
He's started squeezing my hand three times in succession to say "I love you." He's been doing this for a while, and it's sweet. I love it. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, while my hand is stuffed under my head, he'll curl his hand around mine and squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"Yeah. Let's say we're with your sister and she gets this great idea to do something like karaoke and rock climbing with the kids and it costs a million dollars and will take us all day to get to and I don't think it's such a hot idea. I can just reach over and squeeze your hand twice." He reaches over and demonstrates. "And that means, 'no.'"
I nod and smile. "Okay, hon. I can do that."
Now he's warming up to the idea.
"So once will mean 'yes.' Two will mean 'no.' And you already know 'three.'"
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"But I think we need another one," he says.
He reaches out and puts his hand on my thigh.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"Four means 'Do as you're told.'"
I giggle. "Okay. Got it!"
But no, he isn't done yet. A little while later he decides he may as well take full advantage of being able to communicate his alpha-male, Hoh-needs at a moment's notice. No time like the present, eh?
"One final one, babe."
I nod. Again, a hand to my thigh and a gentle series of squeezes.
Squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze, squeeze.
"Five means 'I'm gonna smack your ass.'"
Alrighty then. Something told me he'd find a way to get that in.
I'd better be good.