The other week, talking to mrsjtn, she told me how one of her favorite things about my husband is the way that a glimpse of cleavage can derail his conversation completely. (And my husband is quite the little talker, let me tell you.)
So this morning, we're having a conversation (such as it is, as he's mostly asleep, but even asleep, my darlin' can chat.) I lean over him slightly and he just stops dead mid-sentence.
I prompt him to continue his sentence but instead he says, "My, that top is low cut. I hope you're not planning on leaning over anyone at work."
I'm not, but the mere thought that I could and bring conversation to a screeching halt is comforting in an odd way. And the idea that I can still render hoppie speechless after all this time is positively intoxicating.