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”. 

Alrighty then.