This morning. Gus is standing before the mirror, futzing with an uncooperative cowlick. I try to help him coax it. Gel it. Flatten it. Sweet talk it. But it is stronger than both of us, this cowlick.
Gus is angry, teetering on panic.
I am angry, teetering on DUDE, STOP HOGGING MY MIRROR.
-It's HAIR, Gus. Relax.
-It's MIDDLE SCHOOL, Mom. YOU relax.