overheard from the armchair

I have a bubble. Its a space bubble and my children are all very aware of it. Sometimes, its incredibly flexible and I will wrap them up in my arms for a big long nap. Sometimes, we'll cuddle under a blanket together. But there are times - oh there are times - when my bubble should not be penetrated.

Yesterday was one of those days. It had been a long and tiring day at work. I was home only for a couple of hours before having to leave again. I desperately needed my bubble for a little while.

And M needed me.

She climbed up on the arm of my lazy boy and talked and talked and talked. She hugged my arm. She kissed my face. She talked some more. And sometimes, this is heaven. But when I need my bubble...its torture; sweet little face and all.

Finally, after I could bear it no more I said 'M! Please...mommy has a bubble - remember?' She turned to me and said:

Mommy - don't you even love me anymore?

ca-thud.

That would be the sound of the guilt-o-meter hitting the scary red zone at the high end of it.

As she turned to jump down, I think I saw the hint of a smirk. She's no dummy that one.