Bad boyfriend

I've been told off today. For being a bad boyfriend, not once, but twice. I'm staying at home in penance whilst the Kiwi goes off to watch a film with another kiwi. To think about what I've done.

The second thing that happened was this. I'm in the kitchen, debating whether to finish the Jaffa Cakes in order to throw the box away and make space in the cupboard (honest), when I turned around to see our white duvet cover in the hallway, full of Kiwi and thrashing around somewhat. She'd got herself completely inside it and was giggling quietly to herself. Soon though, giggling turned to a panicky 'I'm getting claustrophobic now - help me. HELP ME!' accompanied by more urgent thrashes and struggling.

I'd love to say that I sprang to the rescue like the valiant boyfriend I am but, dear reader, it saddens me to say that I was paralysed and helpless with laughter, and could do nothing but wait until that lovely little red angry face eventually appeared from under the cover, with words like 'how could you' and 'why didn't you' and 'worst boyfriend in the world' spluttering from it.

The first time was when she called through to me from the living room to the kitchen. It sounded urgent, but I had my hands full (with eggshells, which I hate) and called back 'wait a minute'. It turned out all she wanted was for me to put some music on, but the fact that I'd thought she might've been in terrible danger and yet decided she could wait until I'd dealt with the eggshells (which I hate) was enough to tick off a few brownie points.

So I'm ruminatively finishing the Jaffa Cakes, reflecting on how I've never enjoyed spending time with another human being quite as much as I do with my Kiwi, who's so thoughtful and brilliant and lovely and who gets lost in duvet covers and who talks to her mechanical cat when I'm not there.

I really do love her very much.