Poor Me

He is so cute… even when he is sick. The curled over bottom lip is adorable.

I can’t kiss him, though. I miss kissing him. I didn’t realised how much I must kiss him, you know, normally. Not until it is gone, as they say. You don’t notice until it is gone.

I kept leaning over to rub my lips gently across his soft skin, all week end.

He kept moving his head away and saying, “No.” Then following it with something like, me being a “complainer” and that he can’t imagine what I might be like if I was sick. It is better he is sick, it is quieter that way. He can’t imagine what I might say if he gave the lurgy to me. If I was the next, straight after he. 

He was just avoiding a nasty situation, where his ears were at a definite risk of bleeding.

Well? Me? Really?

Of course, I deny it. It is not true.

He says he should know better than most, and I guess that is true.

I can pat his forehead and brush the skin on his cheek.

But, mostly, he wanted his back rubbed.