She makes me laugh, every day. I try to return the favor, although her laugh sounds a lot more strangled. She does the toughest job anyone can, and she does it whole-heartedly.
And she does it when anyone you know would chuck it and take the day off. Last Friday she had to have an outpatient medical procedure; she scheduled it for after school. I didn't know when she'd make it home, or how she'd be feeling, so I made her favorite soup and, it being the first day I got to play with the new mixer, I cranked out a couple loaves of potato bread.
She made it home in fairly good time, if a bit worse for wear, walked in the kitchen and told me something smelled good.
"Cock-a-leekie soup and fresh bread."
"What're you, tryin' to get laid?"
Happy thirty-third, darlin'. Just give me thirty-three more an' I'll let you change your mind.