Today, while Casey was in the tub recovering from what can only be described as a frustrating day at work (the people he works with are frustrating and morons, not the job), I decided that he needed a well deserved foot massage. Using skills I picked up from watching my pedicure last week, I locked the two of us in the bathroom and went to work not only exfoliating and slathering down his feet with good smelling stuff (he didn't want them TOO soft...what kind of a manly man would he be if he had soft feet?), but then rinsing them off and rubbing them until he had a soft, sleepy smile on his face.
I love doing little things like this for my husband. Not only does it show that I care about him, but it also baby's him a bit which is something I like to do every once in a while. That, and I do it because he goes and works his ass off for me, rubs my back when I've been studying for a couple of hours without a break, quizzes me before a test, and wrangles the munchkin when she's interrupting my study time.
A foot massage is definitely the least thing I can do for him.