"Did you know your brother had convulsions from a high fever when he was 18 months old?"
"Yes, Mom, I did. Also, did I remember to thank you for the fever-phobia you installed with the other neuroses and personality quirks? Aside from that, I thought I'd let the kid run around in traffic and sleep in the park tonight."
Combine that with heavy duty surgery for a friend tomorrow, a brush with death-by-breadknife (I kid you not. ALWAYS WASH YOUR HANDS WHEN YOU GET A CUT, FOLKS.) with another old friend, and having the financial tide brushing my chin, and you have one very fragile-feeling Lyn. Oh, and I keep running into dead and/or traumatized kids as a literary trope.
I wonder if there's a badger in these parts who wouldn't mind sharing a little headspace...