A plus

EB rocked the pants off the family Christmas. He was already rocking my pants (consensually, approx. 85% of the time), but he really brought his A-game to the party. I know, I know. My last post was all about how amazing EB is, so I hereby promise that my next Barfy Cute post will be about Icelandic ponies and table saws.

But for now, EB's heroic family charm because I can't get over it. Here is a brief summary, which for some reason, I decided to write as a Burro/Burra hybrid:

Accept tea and patiently watch Burra open family girfts, which may or may not include one ironic Justin Bieber poster and a video that she already got for her birthday. From the same person who gave it to her for her birthday . Next, a brisk, complaint-free walk with family dog in Adidas sneakers. Stop in to meet Grams and one of her aunts, eat some questionable fudge with a smile, then head on over to the bad side of the lake (incidentally, also a bad inside joke). Remain calm during massive, ridiculous gift exchange, even when her charmingly (?) over-the-top grandfather shoots a flare gun inside the house.  Maintain polite conversation about cycling, even though family members are clearly inebriated. Make Burra fall even more in love with Burro.

EB had to drive back home that night, because, apparently, he like does this thing called "work". Anyways, I get this text from him the next day, which included the following: "thanks for LETTING me meet your family". I put the caps. Letting you meet my family? LETTING YOU MEET MY FAMILY?  
You are a saint. You know, if you weren't Jewish.