I was never into married date nights--which were always on Saturday night. 

Let me see if I get this straight. You both come home from work exhausted on Friday, change into shorts or sweats, have some macaroni and cheese, put the kids to bed, have a couple of drinks, crawl into bed, "Hey, you wanna do it?" "Sure.", 5:24 later you're asleep.

Saturday morning you both get up with the kids at 6 a.m. You're both dirty, stinky, sex gross. You both put on some jeans and clean shirts and go out to breakfast with the kids.

Then suddenly, around mid-afternoon, this transformation occurs, or is supposed to occur. You take a shower, she takes a bath, you brush your teeth, you both shave, you comb your hair, she touches up her nails, puts on perfume, the babysitter arrives at 6:30 and the two of you leave the house for dinner at 7. You sit there across the table from each other and, what do you say? "I thought marriage counseling went really well this week." -Or- "Read any good books lately?" "Yeah, The Cat in the Hat." It's excruciating. You're thinking, This is the same person who lay there prickly-legged like a starfish for 5:24 last night. And she's thinking, This is the same guy who never does the dishes or cleans up around the house and who leaves his clothes all around for me to pick up.  

You’re supposed to take an eraser and wipe your brain clean of all of that. 

“What’re you going to have?” “I’ll have the green eggs and ham."