Military Husbands

Last night, I picked Danielle up from work because I had needed the car that day. We hit the commissary (military speak for grocery store) after I picked her up.

On our way out, Danielle was pushing the grocery cart and making googly eyes at Sean (because that's what moms—and frequently dads—do to their two year olds), and we blew right past a captain. In uniform. No salute. She quickly said, "I'm sorry, sir!" and noted that I probably should have been pushing the cart. Oops.

With almost eight years in, I should know better. I mean, I've read all the etiquette and protocol guides (take note of the fourth "Do"), so there's no excuse. I guess we've been on shore duty for too long. I'm getting soft!