So Bobby and Stephen went for a bike ride this afternoon, and Bobby rode into a tree and buckled his bike and came home all bloody. (From where a branch or something nicked his ear. But still. There was blood.) And all evening he has been feeling absolutely awful, but has been pretending that he doesn't have a headache, because I am worried, and think he should let me take him to the hospital to get checked over and he doesn't want to go. The idiot. And to add insult to injury, he is grumpy because we had the most repulsive supper ever (scary meat and soggy chips from the kebab shop) which he refused altogether in an extremely martyred manner, but which I had to pretend to like so as not to hurt Stephen's feelings, because Steve had offered to go and get it so that I wouldn't have to cook. So right now I am experiencing a nasty combination of nausea (thanks, I presume, to the mystery-meat supper), violent annoyance (thanks to the fact that I chose to marry the most stubborn person on this entire planet), and worry.