I Stand Corrected

We were in a bit of a frenzy as we tried to clean the house last Friday before leaving for the airport.  Kellie’s mom, Bev, was going to stay at our home to look after our 15 year-old daughter while we’re away, and we wanted to get the house cleaned for her.

Kellie was expecting to feel like she was on vacation once the day of our departure arrived, but instead, she was looking harried and ragged, wearing a pair of my boxers and an old tank top, as she ran around the house dusting and vacuuming.  At one point she stopped dead in her tracks, frowning and pouting, and with a sad, droopy puppy dog face she stammered and whimpered, “I don’t feel like I’m on vacation yet.”   

“That’s because you’re not, my dear,” I explained.”

I walked over to her, put my arms around her, and kissed her.  Summoning my best bedroom voice, I suggested that could buoy her mood. “I know how to make you feel like you're on vacation, baby.”

“Nooooo,” she corrected me without even pausing to think, “that’s how I make you feel like you’re on vacation.”

Point taken.