We moved to a 3-bedroom apartment, so obviously there was the master bedroom, then there was Baby D’s room, so there was this one other extra bedroom.
Dean and I looked at each other.
“Wardrobe room, chup!!!”
“My study room, finally!!”
Crap… I feel a fight coming.
Obviously, we had a debate about this and we both put forth our arguments on the table.
His argument was that he works very hard and he has a lot of files and documents to keep, as well as a lot of thinking to do about strategies and partnerships. He also might have business partners over to discuss things and will need a private room for it. Therefore, he needs a study room.
My argument was that I have a lot of clothes. Therefore, I need cabinets.
Plus I am carrying his firstborn and I am going to be scarred with stretchmarks for life.
Ahhh… finally, I went to law school for a reason!
Had a little party that night too.
Clearly I had more fun than my 2 guests.
Sorry Mommy used you, Baby D. But I got your back when Daddy won’t let you do stuff.