Tracey walked out of our bedroom this morning looking like she had something on her mind. Because I’m a super hubby I’d gotten up to the kids this morning and let her have an overdue and well deserved sleep in.
“Coffee?” I asked her. I’d already had two so I was super chatty.
“Umm…,” she began, the sheepish look still on her face. “I have to ask you something because I’m not sure if it was a dream or actually happened.”
This sort of thing can ruin a morning. Over the years I’ve been accused of all sorts of things. Several times I’ve gone to snuggle into Tracey in the morning only to be given the cold shoulder and told to bugger off.
“What’s wrong?” I’ll ask her.
“You know!” she’ll growl, throwing back the covers and storming out of the bedroom.
“Did I snore again?” I’ll follow her out and ask, and she won’t answer. “Did I give you a little kick you when the baby woke up?” Nothing. “Did I fart at you?”
“No,” she’ll snap.
“Then what? What did I do?”
“You kissed a girl and then ignored me.”
I haven’t, of course. She’s had a dream. But that doesn’t stop her cold shouldering me until she’s separated it from reality.
I’ve done this myself. Usually with the kids doing dumb things like falling over cliffs or walking in front of traffic, all while I watch on helpless. I wake up and it takes me anywhere up to an hour to settle myself down.
So it was with some apprehension I waited for her question this morning.
“Did I…did I…,” she began, then took a deep breath, “did I bite your elbow last night?”
“What?” This wasn’t what I was expecting. Pleasingly, I must say. I assume her sub conscious has dredged this up after an incident involving Miss1 and Tracey’s shoulder earlier in the week. “No. When was this supposed to have happened?”
“Just before you got out of bed this morning.”
“I think I’d remember,” I told her, folding myself around her and giving her a peck on the cheek. “That sort of kinky shit has always been a bit of a dream of mine. I have a knee cap that could do with a bit of nibbling.”
“You know what my real dream is?” my wife purred. I raised my eyebrows. I could make some suggestions. “Coffee.”
“Oh…” That wouldn’t have been one of them.
And then she elbowed me in the stomach to get me moving. That bites.
NOTE FROM 30th Sept 2013 – Tracey’s dream last night was my insisting on dipping her breasts in dukkah because ‘it’s much better this way’. I’m going to have to start keeping notes. Could be a 50 Shades Of Grey in the works 😉
When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page.
’raising a family on little more than laughs’