I would like to stay home and nurse this flu in bed, with a good book, ice-cold fresh fruit juice and long drug-dosed sleep. But I simply can’t. You see the bed is Raine’s bed. It’s his territory now. I can’t even lie on it peacefully. The moment I do, I turn into a horse or his wrestling partner. (The small unit that is our apartment is all Raine’s turf by the way!)
It is at such times that I truly wish Raine has a father that he can play rough with. At the end of my working day, I’d just love to be the old couch potato and sleep in front of the tube with my nose burrowed on a nice book.
Oh I’m not really complaining about my Raine-dominated world…It’s just that I clamour for times of tender loving care. Times that I can call-in sick and just spend the day in bed…while somebody else makes a good chicken soup that cures any viral/bacterial infection away. Is that asking too much?!