Whose my Daddy?
With all the kiddies gone home, to be tucked into their own beds, I counted on having a fairly blissful sleep. Hubs was home for the evening which meant there was even a chance for some romance in the night. I always was a dreamer. Instead of back rubs, and passionate kisses, we argued over who was going to get up and close the damn door. Because we are mature. Hubs, having lost that argument, decided to take revenge. Upon his return into our love nest, he rolled over and gazed sweetly into my eyes.
"You're not the boss of me you know." Hubs whined.
"I am if you want any tonight, big boy," I replied in my sexy voice.
He muttered something about revenge being a dish best served cold and then gave me a quick peck on the lips and rolled over.
"What, where's the love?" I countered. He looked over his shoulder, sighed like he is doing me a big favor and rolled back in my direction. I should have figured something was up when I saw the evil gleam in his eyes.
"Oh, I've got the love, baby. Don't you worry," he says as he reaches down to pull the covers up while closing his eyes to lay a big romantic kiss on me.
I have said it once, I will say it again. I, the Redneck mommy, am a fool. Outfoxed by a man. Bastard.
Instead of laying the big one on me, and kick starting our night of passion, he pulled the covers over our head (isn't that romantic?) and let loose the biggest, smelliest damn fart I have ever had the misfortune of inhaling. Picture me thrashing wildy around, trying to escape. While being poisoned.
When he deemed I had sufficiently inhaled enough of his sour gas, he loosened his iron grasp on the covers and let me come up for air.
"Whose your daddy now?" he purred.
Next time, I'll shut the damn door myself.