Fifty is a bad number. Fifty is not fun. Fifty is unfair. I do not like fifty. It seems, well, dramatic. Or maybe it makes me feel dramatic. It just seems like a big number with lots of implications.
No, I am not turning nifty fifty. Neither is Hoss. So what does fifty have to do with this post? Ugh, I know most of you have figured it out by now.
I had fifty coming and Hoss was not going to let me out of it. We had been sick so this fifty was hanging over my head for several days. I had given him a few dirty looks, some snide remarks and I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes when I should have been listening to whatever he was saying. In other words, my attitude was not what it should have been and he warned me where I was headed. He felt those responses needed fixing especially when he had given me chances to fix it. Anyone else know where this is heading?
He waited until I came to him and let him know I felt well enough to accept my swats. They were not soft swats, not overly hard. All were deserved. I was emotional and tired and yes, I had tears in my eyes. It hurt even though he gave them in ten swat increments.
Bertha spoke loud and clear. Do NOT have an attitude with Hoss. I got the message. And now I feel better.
Hugs and being held. Sweet reassurance.
No more waiting for fifty.
Just relaxed. Feeling loved.
Now, how was your weekend?