Every Time, the Little Box

Every time I order this one particular dessert (white chocolate croissant bread pudding from Chocolate Cafe, Ft. Collins, Colorado) when I'm out with my friends, I ask my husband if he would like me to save some for him.

Every time, he says, "No need. I'm good."

For years, he's said this.

But every time, for years, I ask the waitress for the little takeout box, and I place half the white chocolate croissant bread pudding into it. I pour all the extra white chocolate sauce over it, and I head for home. I find him and place the box before him.

Every time, he's overwhelmed with gratitude for this treat that he loves as much as I do. Every time, he's so happy. It's a little joke in our marriage--the white chocolate croissant bread pudding that he doesn't request but receives anyway, that he doesn't need but can enjoy, that he insists is too much but eagerly devours.

I want to cultivate more white chocolate croissant bread pudding moments for every time I forget how to love and delight someone else. Of course they don't need this extravagant thing. But they do.