We are having a quiet Saturday night in, I lie on the settee, legs mid air; look Mr H I can keep my legs in the air, are they straight; are they straight...look at me, arrrrrre my legs straight?
Mr H glances over, what are you doing?
Trying to get my legs in the air and cycle like I did in the baby pool
For goodness sake there are wiser locked up...
I juggle with my legs and arms to try and sit up. A snigger erupts as I start to roll onto the floor. Mr H blocks my fall...I end up in a heap.
Laughter is like music in our house, giggles are as good as Belgian chocolates.
We cherish fun because when fatigue digs its claws in I snap at a moments notice, one wrong word and my door slam is world class. I have learnt to blow out long and hard when anger bubbles and it has helped.
But ladies; I know you will understand when I tell you it is always Mr H's fault, sometimes though I have a long wait for his apology!
...Mr H interrupts the programme I am watching, now sitting upright...
...By the way your legs were definitely not straight...