A small girl, pampering her mother at Brownies. A back and neck massage, a hand rub, nail painting, hair brushing, and foot weirdery.
Love is sitting still as a small child paints my nails, and leaving the varnish on overnight, even though I feel as though my fingers are suffocating under it.
Love is playing bingo together, winning, and letting the small one eat the creme egg prize without assistance.
Love is spending time together, valuing the thought and care, and appreciating the closeness.
And it can only possibly be love which kept me sitting as my head was scraped and poked by a very very strange metal head massaging wire brush/egg whisk thingy.
But it requires no effort at all to enjoy holding hands and snuggling and being told I'm the best mummy in the whole wide world and that I should alax more often.
So the question is, how long does love dictate I should allow my fingers to remain in a state of suffocation?