<very severe glare of the top of my glasses> You are a good mother, a good person, and a good writer. Not sure whether to give you a Gibb’s slap or a hug at this point.
I will probably always go for the hug, Cook, but don’t push me!
<less severe but nonetheless pointed stare over glasses>
Oh crap! <big wet smack on the forehead> <wiping off slobber with sleeve> Happy dreams, dear lady!