I dunno - what day is it today?

The big hoot in our family is How Mummy Can Never Remember The Date Of Her Own Wedding Anniversary. Oh how we laugh.

It is true, for the first few years of our marriage July rang a faint bell, but the years go by, new synapse paths become well-trodden, and the expression 'June Bride' takes on a more pertinent significance. And now, many years of married bliss later, actually I can give you the actual date two times out of three.

Ha ha, I thought, I'm going to be that prepared this year! (Well, not to the extent of going to any actual effort, you understand.) I happened to be passing our local Wine and Vinegar emporium, a total necessity for any small village high street, and splurged on a bottle of whiskey. (It's smarter than it sounds. The whiskey comes in casks, and is hand-decanted into the fancy bottle of your choice. So there.) I also arranged for Ma to baby-sit tonight, rather than Saturday. (Pirates of the Karabiner, since you ask. Well, only if you ask Sid.) I was SO set to go into the whole 'Oh no! I forgot! Oh well, maybe you'd better just have this lovely bottle of hand-decanted whiskey I just happen to have lying around! Oh darling, what a lovely present! And so expensive!' routine. I was looking forward to it.

So this morning, in the two seconds we coincided in the hall between him dropping Beri off and me taking Sid out the door, Jeremy, wild, wet, rumpled and aghast, and clearly having only just remembered himself, asks me if I know what day it is. In the remaining 0.75 seconds, I belt upstairs, drag the bottle from its hiding place, shove it into his startled hands and head out the door play-group-wards.

Not even time for a triumphant cackle. That hubris, it'll get you every time.

UPDATE: Later That Same Day. Jeremy at a loss as to what to get me (WHY?) but actually, giving me the moral high ground, and the opportunity to crow about this FOR THE REST OF OUR LIVES, is gift enough.