Let it be known.
That on this day, March the twenty-sixth, in the two-thousand and eleventh year,
I was right about something. And Cary had to admit it.
I wish it was about something more monumental, but a victory is a victory. We were sitting on the couch and Cary had that look on his face... The look that means he is about to do something annoying. He was prepping to do that annoying thing where you blow a raspberry on someone's stomach and I am extremely ticklish and I hate it so I yelled, "Don't zerbit me!!!" Cary stopped dead in his tracks to laugh hysterically at the fact that I used the word "zerbit." He claimed that no one else in the world calls that a zerbit and I must have made up the word entirely. It is not uncommon for me to make up things, so at first I was kind of sheepish about my made-up word, and even contemplated admitting defeat. But I refused to back down and let google do the talking for me. Urbandictionary.com came through for me...
n. The act of allowing one's lips and cheeks to vibrate while pressed firmly against a bare abdomen and exhaling forcefully. It usually elicits many giggles and protests from the victim to stop. syn. belly bubbles
I then proceeded to perform my I-told-you-so dance, which really needs some fine tuning, as I rarely have the chance to bust it out in this marriage. That darn hubseroo is always right about everything.
Someday I might be right about something more significant and more worthwhile, but life is all about savoring the little victories.