In which Primo is almost grateful (almost) to be sick because it gets him out of going to a protest march about global warming in crummy weather and I have to laugh about the irony of it all

Primo: I'm sick! This isn't fair!

Me: Sorry, sweetie.

Primo (more vocal sadness about having a cold)

Me: Well, I'm going to watch TV now.

Primo: But I'm sick!

Me: I know.

Primo: And I want sympathy! And soup!

Me: There is chicken adobo in the fridge. Black beans and rice. Chocolate cheesecake. Eat that.

Primo: But - I want soup.

Me: There's soup in the freezer. I guess you could thaw that.

Primo: That's too much work.

Me: OK. Well, whatever.

Primo: I want sympathy!

Me: I gave you some.

Primo: No, I want more than that. Don't you need to cater to my every whim and sing "Soft Kitty" to me? And make me soup? And rub my back?

Me: I am not your mother.

Primo (big, sad sigh)

Me: She really did not prepare you for the real world!

Primo: She doted on me.

Me: Yeah. Exactly.

Primo: At least if I am still sick tomorrow I will not have to go to that climate march.

Me: You wouldn't have had to go no matter what.

Primo: I know, but now I don't have to feel guilty about it.