Promise me that we’ll always be silly. That when we wake up and roll over, we’ll rub noses like little baby puppies do, eskimo kisses until one of us sneezes.
Promise me that we’ll tickle each other, that we’ll make goofy faces and take pictures and laugh and laugh and laugh.
Promise me that we’ll play with all the bouncy balls in the toy aisle of the department store. That you’ll twirl me around in the middle of the street like we’re on the cast of some beautiful dance movie and this is our big scene. That when we eat ice cream, we’ll smush at least a little bit of the cone in each other’s faces. That we’ll play wrestle, and that you’ll throw me over your shoulders sometimes.
Promise me that we’ll never grow too old or too serious.
That we’ll prank each other and lick the cake batter straight from the spoon and have water balloon fights in the middle of the summer.
We are kids. And always will be at heart.
No matter where we go or how much we grow or even where we end up five, ten, twenty years from now, please promise me that we’ll always be laughing.
I want us to tell jokes and send ugly Snapchats. I want to poke each other and squeeze each other and drive each other crazy. I want us to blast a stupid rap song and scream the lyrics at the top of our lungs. I want us to draw faces on the eggs in our fridge and narrate strangers’ lives as we sit and people-watch on a park bench.
I want to love you in all the ways—serious, normal, careful—but especially silly.
Because if I can be silly with you, we’ll never run out of happiness.
I hope you know that I’ll love you with everything I have.
And I hope you’ll do the same.
If there’s one thing I promise, I promise to grow old with you. But stay young at heart.
I want us to be smart, to work hard, to be responsible adults in all the ways we should. But I still want those childish grins spread across our faces. I still want to see that mischievous smirk on your lips, that little bit of something up your sleeve.
I want us to always find ways to be silly, to laugh. I want us to always appreciate each other and our quirks. To appreciate life.
Promise me that we’ll never be too old for cones from the ice cream truck, for lying in the grass and making animals out of clouds, for squirt gun fights and pillow forts and talking in strange accents.
Promise that you’ll grow old with me,
but never grow up.
I want us to be the couple that even years and years from now, when we are grey and our bodies are tired and worn, will still find ways to tease each other, will still do eskimo kisses until one of us sneezes, will still make silly faces and laugh and laugh and laugh. 
