Bless You

[2.] down bonus

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EDITED

"May, how can you tell your brothers apart?" is a question that is asked to me so many times that it's unhealthy.  

Years ago, I once typed out a good response to that answer and repeated it several times in my head, just so I'd be prepared the next time someone would ask me. I soon memorized it, and I still say it to people to this day.

The response is, "Bailey's the guy with the weird haircut, Cameron's the guy who wears jeans with holes in them, and Theo's the guy who's ears will get red whenever you mention his name."

I still say it to people to this day.

It's fun, I know.

But yes, in an actual honest answer to that question, I often do get them mixed up. Especially when they act and do their hair all the same, just to mess with me.

I once got Bailey and Theo mixed up for an entire week.

Now I have trust issues.

"Honey, I'm home!" Bailey said as he walked through the front door. He set the car keys on the kitchen counter and went into the living room to watch his favourite show. Cameron carefully brushed his shoes on the mat before putting them away, and Theo ran upstairs to his room.

I joined Bailey in the living room and plopped myself on the sofa. I yawned, stretched, and chilled on my phone for a good while.

Until a high-pitched 'mreow' got my attention.

"Simba!" I exclaimed, my eyes lighting up at the sight of our fat cat waddling into the room. He blinked at me, then coughed up a hairball. 

So mannerly, thank you.

Bailey let out an excited 'oo!' and grabbed Simba from the floor. Simba's claws latched onto the furry rug, but his attempts failed as Bailey swung him up in his arms. 

"Oh, my beautiful baby, how I missed you!" he cooed, hugging the cat to his chest.

A second later, he got scratched to death, and Simba was back on the ground.

"You're the reason why Simba hates us so much," Cameron said from the kitchen. He closed the cupboard door and joined us in the living room, carrying a bag of chips in his hands.

"He likes me, though!" I said proudly. "C'mere, Simba. Come to mama, you chubby little chubkins," I said, patting my lap.

Simba looked at me.

"Pspspsps," I said. Simba's ears perked, and he swished his fluffy tail back and forth before taking a mighty leap onto my lap.

I immediately did what every cat owner does. Boop the nose, scratch the chin, and smooch the top of his head.

Simba and my snuggle time didn't last long, though.

"Okay, time's up. Get off," I said after sneezing six times. I shoved him off my lap, and he let out a little grunt and waddled away.

I grabbed the Kleenex box beside me, took a Kleenex, and blew my nose. "Guh, I hate allergies."

"Aw, poor May," Cameron said.

"I just want to enjoy Simba's company without suffering the consequences for ONCE!" I said, throwing my hands up in the air. Sniffling, I looked wistfully at my allergy bearer. "Is that too much to ask for?!"

Cameron patted my back.

I sniffed again, but I didn't accept my fate. Nothing will ever stop me from booping Simba's nose and smooching his furry lil head.