It’s Sunday afternoon.
Mr B lies huddled on the two seater, attempting not to hack up a lung.
Misses E, M and myself are cuddled together on the other settee, sharing a blanket and a story.
My mind registers a shifting as my sick husband attempts to rise to his feet. It’s as if he is coated in treacle, thick gloopy treacle that hugs him to the sofa and makes every move an effort. Finally freeing himself with a low groan he lurches, heavy limbed, towards the kitchen, a living zombie.
As I continue with the story, Miss M nudges me and stage whispers,
Miss M: ”Mummy, Daddy’s escaped.”
Miss E and I glance at each other and collapse into a fit of giggles, and from the kitchen, Mr B manages a snort and a guffaw before breaking into another coughing fit.
Sighhhhhh, sometimes it’s the little things.
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December 22nd, 2008 at 6:31 am
Okay . forget the career as a barrister, she’s for sure going to write comedy
December 22nd, 2008 at 7:35 am
My husband says it’s every man’s god given right to behave that way at Christmas. I say Christmas? So what’s the excuse at easter/the summer/spring/autumn etc etc . . .
December 22nd, 2008 at 8:02 am
LOL she always has just the right words doesn’t she!
December 22nd, 2008 at 9:35 am
I think he secretly blames you women for making him sick and wants to sulk about it in the kitchen where you can’t see him making angry faces at you.
December 22nd, 2008 at 6:00 pm
Daryl, her timing and delivery are pretty good. ;D
Tara I know. Tsk. Blumming Man Flu.
Finely Tuned Woman, that could be it, hee hee.
December 22nd, 2008 at 8:59 pm
Poor guy!
Well, at least he is surrounded by amusing females!
December 23rd, 2008 at 1:04 am
Love the imagery of that!
December 23rd, 2008 at 5:10 am
Hope he made it back for another lie down
x
December 23rd, 2008 at 6:06 pm
Susan, yeah, he’s lucky really. Tsk. ;D
Charette thanks.
Almost Mrs Average, he did, but the giggling hurt his chest.