I only realised when I picked up my phone to check Instagram before getting out of bed that it was the 4th.
Charl had gotten up earlier with the girls (Sundays are my days to sleep in). I crawled into the shower where a small person found me and announced: 'Daddy's making scones!'
'Anniversary scones?' I inquired of him when I came downstairs.
He blanked, and then quickly recovered, 'Yes of course love, happy anniversary!'
So we had scones for breakfast, and mocked ourselves about how most people arrange weekends away and dinners out and fancy gifts for their wedding anniversaries.
We forget, and then recover and just have a normal day.
And then remembered that a normal day is the best kind of day to celebrate.
After scones there was some lawn-watering which turned into some child-spraying and screeching. Then there was some moaning and temper-flaring and wrangling into shoes and warm tops and collars and leads.
There was an epic forest walk with mud and misty mountain rain and coughing fits and dog shenanigans and poo on shoes and mushroom-spotting and pine-cone collecting.
There was some special treaty ice-cream after.
Back home there was a family Monopoly challenge which the girls eventually tired of and drifted off leaving he and I to fleece each other with much capitalistic glee.
Then there was TV time (for them), and meal prep time (for us).
There was gin & tonic and braai politics. There was an epic potato salad and another G&T and a salsa to which we may have added too many chilies to make it kid friendly. It was delicious.
There was sunset from the lawn with flying birds and cavorting dogs and wood smoke.
There was some hilarity over dinner which may have led to some vaguely inappropriate You Tube clips involving monkeys and smelly fingers.
There was hair-washing by Dad and hair-drying by Mum.
There was a small person who made a nest in our bed while her sister was being blow-dried and fell asleep there.
Later there was constructive input on my latest collage project and some deep and meaningful stuff about career paths.
There was some couch-potato-ing and some Monday prepping.
Last thing before I headed upstairs I freshened up the flowers I bought myself on his behalf last week. And while I did so I realised that it had been a perfect day.
A 'if-this-was-our-last-day-on-earth-it-couldn't-have-been-more-perfect' day.
A 'this-is-the-kind-of-day-I-dreamed-about-at-the-altar' kind of day.
It's been 12 years of days like this.