*I’m not sure I understand, Click… Groucho wasn’t Russian…*
*… No, I don’t think Karl was either, Click…*
*Ah, okay Clicky… I think I understand what you were driving at…*
*… Nope, Click, you’ve lost me. I’ll be honest with you, Clicky, this post of yours is a bit of mishmash…*
*…Never mind, Sweetie. Have a Song…*
*Lovely colourful gif, Click …*
“It’s Fathers Day. Why am I doing all the heavy lifting?” Thoughtful Man harrumphed as he dropped the heavy box on the floor.
“Hmm…?” I was trying to take a picture of Assistant Loopy’s latest addition to the Library walls and so, let’s be honest about it, not giving him my full attention.
“No lie-in. No breakfast in bed…”, he looked at me coolly. “No present and no card”.
I moved closer to rub his shoulders. “You said Fathers Day is a made up day by card manufacturers to make money.” I found a knot and dug in. “In fact ‘fake card days’ is one of your favourite moans”.
“It is”. He groaned under the pressure of my needling knuckles.
“Well, the boys and I took your message to heart and decided to ignore it. Fathers Day, that is. What’s in the box?”. I kissed the back of his neck and peered over his shoulder. “That looks like your old video games”.
He reached in and pulled out a handful of plastic cases. “‘Final Fantasy‘. I love those games”.
“I know you do.” Now it was my turn to groan. Unlike Thoughtful Man, I kept it inside. “We’ve still got the console, why don’t you play one later?”.
“I think I will”. He delved deeper into the box.
“Good. I have plenty to be getting on with.” I moved away, “Breakfast?”.
“Happy Fathers Day, sweetie. Have a Song”.