It was taking all my focus to back out of the bank without hitting anyone. But my son spoke up anyway.
“When I get hurt just a little,” he said.
I nodded, as I craned to see over his head and out the back window.
“…and the stuff drops out of my eyes…”
I spun the wheel, and we missed the curb by the ATM.
“Well…I’m not crying,” he insisted.
I smiled my understanding into the rear view mirror.
“That’s just,” he said, “that’s just the toughness falling out of me.”