My Daddy - look at those loving eyes.
Fifty four going on five… Yep, that’s me whenever I get sick.
Don’t “You need to see a doctor” me with that matter of fact tone of voice. Coddle me, treat me, pet me, AGREE with me, or if you don’t, at least give me
“I know this is going to hurt baby, but I’ll be right here (while you’re rubbing my head or touching my face)” kind of stuff.
It feels like a porcupined bowling ball is living in my ear
and down my throat and the very next swallow may be the one that won’t go
down. Help, I am five and need my daddy. Oh yes, there it is; his big
burly hand on my cheek letting me know he would take care of everything,
not to worry.
Be warned men, for most of us chicks, you will be compared to that wonderful man whether
you like it or not. He’s the hero we continually search for, the protector we need
and champion who gives his unconditional love so tenderly. He may be a husband, brother, son,
employee to others but it’s his DAD status that makes him the most cherished
individual on the planet.
My own Dad is gone from this realm but, as you can see, the five year old inside me still seeks him. I probably always will.
So, when I don’t feel well, be nice to me. I dare ya…
Don’t tell me you ARE being nice, be nice on MY terms. I’m the sick one and I’m five
and I miss my daddy and if he were here I’d make him beat you up if you don’t. How’s
~signed The Wacky Ex~