With every passing day of our marriage, I find myself sounding more and more like my mom. And by that I mean, what my mom sounded like to me when I was a teenager.
"What are you still doing in the shower? MEDITATING?"
"Time to wake up!"
"You were supposed to wake up 20 MINUTES AGO!"
"We have to leave now. NOW!"
"When someone talks to you, the least you can do is PAY ATTENTION."
"I JUST explained that you!"
"That is NOT where that goes."
So on and so forth.
And with every passing day, my manchild is slowly turning into a legit child who needs constant care and attention.
Before we decided that we wanted to start living together, I totally knew this was going to happen. He was always careless, forgetful and irresponsible in a general sense, and I was fully accepting of that. I knew that if I asked him to buy bread on his way home, he would without a doubt, forget. Or he might actually remember but feel too lazy to get it, so he'd pretend to have forgotten. All that is fine. All that is what makes him, him and I can live with that. I got into this prepared for that.
But what I didn't know when I brought him home was that he was a puppy. Sometimes he's a kitten who acts annoyingly indifferent to my affection for him and those are the days on which I almost carry him to a field of heather to sacrifice him to the pagan gods. But this morning, he turned into a puppy. Allow me to explain.
This morning, I banged on the bathroom door THRICE to get him out of there because he forgot that he'd been standing under the shower for half an hour. Once he got dressed (in the clothes I picked out for him because he takes too long to decide what to wear when all the black shirts are in the wash), I sat with him and watched a Superwoman video while having breakfast. Halfway through the video, I screamed, "Holy shit, SHANE! It's 10 past 10! Didn't you have to get to work at 10?", at which point, he sniffed in the remaining food on his plate, gulped down his mango juice and got up to leave.
But despite all the hurry, he found the time to bend down and smother me with painful, stubbly, scrunchy but at the same time sloppy kisses. While he was at it, I noticed how his elbow was pushing my glass of juice towards my laptop keyboard so I asked him to stop. That seemed to have hurt him, and with a quivering lower lip, he asked me, "You don't like my sloppy kissies anymore?"
"Of course I do. I just wanted to avoid having juice spilled over my keyboard. There, I moved it. You can kiss me goodbye now", I said.
And while I was expecting another Attack of the Stubbles, I was disgusted to realise that his kissies this time were leaning more towards the sloppy side because he wasn't kissing me anymore, he was licking my right bloody cheek. Bloody from the previous attack, of course.