I know. There's...there's so much of your life I've missed. And...you don't...you can't...know how much that drives me crazy. I hate it. I hate not knowing things about you. I don't know how to talk to you anymore. You're not my little boy anymore and I'm so scared I'll just end up saying something that's going to hurt you because of all the things I don't know and I don't want to do that so I'm practically walking on eggshells with you. Which I shouldn't do because that's not what mothers do.