‘So…’ the husband said to me from across the table this morning, one eyebrow raised and what can only be described as a look in his eye. ‘Tonight. You and me. How about it?’

Are you…flirting with me? I asked in a combination of mock outrage and actual outrage because my hands were still wrapped around my first cup of tea of the morning and my hair hung in matted tendrils around my shoulders and I was swamped in his dressing gown.

‘Let me take you out for dinner’ he asks.

A decidedly less adult request than the one I had envisioned from his previous flirting I raise an eyebrow back. Beans giggles from her highchair and launches a piece of toast dripping in butter and jam high into the air. As it slides a sticky path down the wall I sip my tea.

Date night?

‘Date night.’

Holy shit, we haven’t been out, together, alone since…since *racks memory* … *sips tea* … *checks watch* since, well our honeymoon I guess. The honeymoon that we left for two years ago tomorrow. That’s a bit embarrassing actually.

We are fun, the husband and I, we are. It’s just, at the end of a long day we are more than happy to just, y’know, sit. Maybe have a cuddle. Watch some TV. Sleep.

But tonight we shall shake off the shackles of our domestic drudgery, alright our shackles of boring, and we shall go for dinner at the place we had our wedding reception two years ago today.

I will even re-do my make up and dig out my eyeliner.

It’s kind of daunting though, the idea of eating a meal outside of the house, alone. No toddler to shout for what’s on our plates. I mean, what will we talk about…?!