Whoever said patience is a virtue? Did that person ever wonder if virtue which breeds vice is still virtue? is patience intrinsically virtue, or it is so defined by either its end or purpose?…

These are thoughts he makes me think. You see, he drives me crazy. He really does. A good deal of the time I’m plotting how to do really evil things to him and get away with it, or just smiling at him in that absolutely irritating gooey way. Yuck!

He has a really nasty virtue, it is patience; and he has a particularly frustrating habit: smiling when he knows you are planning ways to kill him, till you are wonder-struck at the dancing lights in his eyes and wondering why it is he who has absolutely cute sexy cat eyes and not you.


He waits patiently for me. Stalking lion to hapless prey; that’s the game he plays. I get home and change the sheets on my bed that have been there since I last left home to wherever; inhaling the perfume and relishing the feel of freshly laundered, sun-blazed sheets; itching to go and bathe so I can enjoy the sheets on my cool, clean skin. Just as I turn to my wardrobe to undress and start smiling my secret I’m-about-do-do-something-I’m-really-going-to-enjoy smile, I hear it.


…Loud screaming bed; sad wood wondering why this huge weight is punishing it, instead of the feather-light one it is used to.

I turn to my bed, eyes widening in horror. He is lying on my newly spread bed sheets; legs splayed east and west. Arms too. He is smiling cheekily at me, and I can almost swear he’s thinking:

“Oh you humble servant of mine with whom I am well pleased!”

No matter how much I rant and rave (okay, okay, you got me. I never do enough of that because that smile of his is just soo… *drool drops*), he smiles, laughs, and explains that he has been waiting for me to come home so he can sleep in my bed. And no; he doesn’t let me enjoy the comfort of my bed alone that night. He pushes me to one side and takes up 75%; his constant rationalization: “Sis mi! I’m bigger than you nau”

I don’t know why I’m the elder sister really. He gets his way all the bloody time. Damn those cute eyes and knowing that he’s my Baby.

Mon Baby Mon Baby, as you mark this new year, may your days be happy always; and may I always remember to get you McVitie’s Shortbread *winks*… or may you repent of terrorizing me when I forget (somebody say a huge ‘amen’ on behalf of my account balance please!)

Happy Birthday Olu’drae!

Omo Borogun!


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