Learning not to question

I often (particularly when I am annoyed) liken my life to living in an interrogation room. Why did you do this? What is this? Why is that here? What are we doing tonight? Why now? Why not yellow? Ad nauseum. So imagine my delight at this little conversation I am about to replay for your entertainment.

A package arrived in the mail, containing a pair of shoes I had ordered as a gift for a little girl I know. MrM brought the mail in and I exclaimed "Those are the kiddie shoes I ordered!" and proceeded to unwrap a very cute pair of pear green sandals with white polka dots. I checked them out thoroughly, flexed the sole, and satisfied of their quality, stuck them back in their packaging to put away.

MrM: Don't you like them?
Me: Of course I do! I'm just putting them away for now.
MrM: Don't you want to use them?
Me: I'm not giving them to BabyGirl till next month.
MrM: So they are not for Ro? (relief visible on his face)
Me: Of course not. You didn't think I would put girl sandals on him? (I have to admit there is the small precedent of the unisex red shoes I bought)
MrM: I was worried about that, but I didn't want to question you.

OMG!

I didn't want to question you.

Did you guys hear that?

I didn't want to question you.

Should I repeat it?

I didn't want to question you.

Aaaaah! The joy! The simple little joy! Let's say it one last time just to feel the beauty of it.

I didn't want to question you.

Thank you MrM. This post is dedicated to you so that the next time I complain about you asking me too many questions, you can point me right here and say, "Remember that one time (in band camp?), I didn't want to question you!".