Shakespeare, my dear.

William Shakespeare made me laugh today. When I ran across this sonnet, I instantly thought of one particular morning when I was waiting to give my own William a ride to school and he still wasn't out of bed. After I cruelly yanked the blankets off and exposed him to the physical and metaphorical coldness of morning, he mumbled, "I hate you..." and five minutes later finished, "...for waking me up so harshly." I haven't pulled the blankets off him since, and consequently the word hate has never again crossed his lips.

Those lips that love's own hand did make
Breathed forth the sound that said "I hate,"
To me that languished for her sake.
But when she saw my woeful state,
Straight in her heart did mercy come,
Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
Was used in giving gentle doom,
And taught it thus anew to greet.
"I hate" she altered with an end
That followed it as gentle day
Doth follow night, who, like a fiend,
From heaven to hell is flown away.
"I hate" from hate away she threw.
And saved my life, saying "not you."