Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?This morning I walked into the kitchen and Lochlan played a few notes on Ben's guitar, which he tinkers with every chance he gets. (It's electric. Apparently that's a big draw.)
I immediately turned around, cocked my head and tried to place the song. I know that song. I know it well.
See? he says and Teflon Jesus nods. She totally moves her eyes when she's rooting around in her brain for memories. It's unbelievable.
Maybe it's a sign of something, I tell him.
Mental retardation?
Well, SOMEBODY'S in a bad mood this morning.
He passed the guitar to Dalton and walked out. I looked at Dalton and waited for an explanation. Dalton just shrugged. He needs a little more beauty sleep, I think. He stays awake when you're sick.
If he's so concerned he has a terrible way of showing it.
Hey, it's his Scottish bedside manner. 'Go fuck yourself', or something like that. Right?
I suppose. And then I cough some more.
Here's the rub: Ben will keep me awake late each night whether I should be or not (so that we get time! We never have TIME.) and Lochlan does not agree with that, nor does he abide by the None of your business response to his direct orders to sleep and not play. The fucker.
On the other hand I am sicker today. So instead of I told you so, he just acts all miffy and put out for like the entire day and then just as I plan to sweeten him up and make everything better, he starts giving orders again. It's preschool by day, army by night.
See, this is why I go looking (literally, LOOKING WITH MY EYES, BOYS) for those midway memories. Daytimes on the show were pretty much the only time in my life I wasn't treated like a child.
No worries, Bridget. He'll come around.
When I feel better.
Yeah.
Hey, do you have that song on your phone? I want to hear the rest of it now.
No, you'll have to go ask Loch. He probably does.