Tell Me Sweet Little Lies

“I need a hug,” said my wife, throwing her arms wide and drawing me in. She was looking sad but in a fake way.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

It turns out Miss7 had been running roughshod over her emotions today.

“I love you, Mummy,” Miss7 had exclaimed this afternoon, throwing her arms around Tracey and giving a squeeze.

It was one of those moments which comes out of nowhere just when you need it most and makes you realize nothing else matters – not the dishes, not the floors, not the folding pile. Especially not the folding pile.

“I love you, too,” said Tracey, returning the cuddle and throwing in a kiss for good measure.

“But I love you more,” said Miss7 seriously.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” said Tracey.

“I do though. I love you more,” Miss7 assured her mother, clearly wanting to play the game.

“No, I love you more.”

“No, Mummy, I love you more.”

“No, I love you more.”

“I love you more.”

You get the picture. Apparently, it went on for a bit.

Until…

“I love you more,” said Tracey. “So stop lying,” she added for variety.

“Okay,” said Miss7…

…and ran off.

Hilarious. It’s the sort of thing which usually happens to me.

“It’s okay,” I told Tracey with mock sympathy. “I still love you.”

She smiled. “I love you too.”

“But I love you more,” I joked.

“Okay,” she said…

…and walked off grinning.

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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”