His voice sounded distressed, so of course it got my attention. I shot out of my chair and headed for his room.
"Mom! I need help!" he yelled.
I ran into the room, panting. "What is it?" I asked breathlessly.
"Mom! I need you to scratch my foot."
"You called me in here to scratch your foot? I'm not scratching your foot! Do it yourself!"
"Oh come on, mom. Pleeeeeaaaseeee?" he pleaded.
"No!"
"Just a little?"
"No."
"Mom," he said with a sad, disappointed tone. "That does not help me, you know."
This boy...sigh.
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