I will **** the spiders. I will share my fries with you when you've finished all yours and are still hungry. I won't ever pop my collar. I will never be rude to your tummy—when I hear it growl and gurgle. I promise to bend down and reply respectfully. I will eat the mushrooms when we order the supreme pizza. I will kiss the paper-cuts. and the door-slammed finger, and the counter-bumped hip. I'll try my hardest not to get annoyed when you whisper questions and comments during movies. I will be the big spoon. I will let you win at wrestling, sometimes. Other times I will not. I will go faster. Harder. I will pull when you want. And tease you when you don't. I will send you random texts and leave you silly gifts. Not always. Not on schedule. Just whenever I want to. Whenever I think you need one. Or seven. I will check your tire pressure. And remind you to take your car in. I will hold your hand. I will love you.  I will love you. I will love you.