I hate the trash (it's menfolk work) but I do it... EVERY Thursday night.
And... EVERY Thursday night- my Ashton talks to me from the front door.
I never say "go talk to me because I'm scared and it's dark!"
I just say "it's time for me to take the trash".
Tonight... Like EVERY Thursday. I opened the garage, mustered my courage (I am after all afraid though I dare not say it) and run with the can to the end of the driveway... All the way hearing him..
"Hi mommy, I see you mommy, don't fall, good job!"
It actually hurts, the way I love him