Joe, in 15 or so years: Mom? What is this weird spot on my chest?
Joe: right here, over my heart? It’s this weird like, indented spot. Is it like my birthmark, or like, a structural issue?
Me: Oh. That’s your worry spot. SORRY!
Joe: My what?
Me: When you were little I used to creep into your room while you were asleep to make sure you were breathing. I’d put two fingers right there, just to see.
Joe: You couldn’t just look?
Me: Nope! I needed to feel it.
Joe: So you just like, lightly touching my chest left this big of a mark? That’s crazy.
Me: Oh, well I did it at least 90 times a night. It doesn’t matter how soft I did it, how lightly I meant it, how definite your breathing was, I just needed to keep feeling it over and over.
Joe: Weird, okay. Well, I’m out.
Me: Where to?
Joe: Dad’s teaching me how to drive the self driving car.
Me: ……Can I touch the spot first?
Joe: GET OFF ME MOM
Me: JUST ONCE MORE