The wife and I didn’t do much on Valentine’s Day.

The night before the “holiday,” Mr. Chubbles decided to wake up every hour and a half and scream until one of us went in there to give him a cuddle or a burp or some chloroform. So by the time Valentine’s Day itself rolled around, we were exhausted.

But we managed a little something. Can’t disappoint the florists and chocolatiers!

We were far too tired to go hit the town, and I doubt too many lovestruck couples would have enjoyed having a crying baby interrupt their romantic dinner for two. Besides, when you’re as skilled at the romance thing as we are, making a big deal out of this Hallmark holiday is like hanging out with high schoolers on New Year’s Eve. We’re professionals at this point.

I mean, we made a baby, guys. I think we’ve got this shit down.

And while we didn’t opt for the fine dining route, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

On that count, I have to hand it to MomandBuried, tho. As evidenced by the photos below, she flat-out killed Valentine’s Day.

1 – She framed the Omar bib!

2 – She put together a classy ass dinner for the two of us!

Yes, that’s a bucket of the Colonel’s finest. Reserved only for special occasions (seriously, the last time I had KFC was at friend’s 30th birthday, about four years ago.) The accompanying bottle of champagne, on the other hand, was nothing new. We pop a bottle of that stuff something like once a week around these parts.

So after we put the kid to bed and ignored his 30 minutes of screaming, we tucked into our special dinner and and got to celebrating. Finally, when we finished our Valentine’s Day feast, we topped the evening off with an early sacktime of 10pm. And it was GLORIOUS.

Who says romance is dead?