You are, it has to be said, a very lovely and sweet four-year-old, but there are a couple of very important things I should probably tell you.
When Mummy (yes, me) has the headache from hell, she does not really want to have a torch shone in her eyes. Yes, I know you were playing at being the doctor. And honey, I know you only wanted to ‘fix me’.
And I am also aware, that mummy lying around on the sofa for eight consecutive days is pretty boring. But still, I have no desire to play ‘weddings’. Or have shawls wrapped around my head. Or to teach you to play ‘chesst’. Or to be grandma to your realistically crying doll.
I do appreciate your kind sentiment, hauling my head around to ram a cushion under it while scratching the zip down the back of my neck. But I’m a little tender at the moment, precious.
Normally, I wouldn’t mind my body being swathed in pillows but darling, I have a headache and it’s 28°C in the shade.
And I know you’re fed up now, but I’m really too delicate to go outside and catch some rays.
You’re very kind, however, the doctor already removed all of my earwax. And you do actually scare me a bit with that cotton bud…
… As did the small fluffy dog, you lovingly placed in my bed, so I wouldn’t be alone. So sweet, I just hadn’t expected it. Resulting in me almost bumping the ceiling with my damaged head. Did you forget that I sleep with Papa Bear?
But hey, Akasha, my littlest princess I really love that you came back from the supermarket, armed with my favourite flowers.
Thank you honey!
Will always adore you,