I’m somewhat of a mother hen. Some might call me over-protective. I bet the question I ask Jake more than any other is “Are you okay?”…or “How are you feeling?” Lately, I’ve noticed that any time I hear a crash from the other room, or if he coughs (or just clears his throat), he’ll yell “I’m okay!”
I know, I know. Anxiety won’t add a single hour to my life. I’m working on that.
This morning he knocked his noggin on the amoire. He looked at me and said “I’m okay, Mom”. I said, “Are you sure? That sounded like it hurt”. He responded indignantly – “My brain is not broken. I know because I’m talking”.