Jake called me yesterday. He told me what everyone was doing, and I said, "But Jake, how are you?"
He paused.
He exhaled.
"Josh, I can't get any rest," he said.
"Why, Jake?"
"My mama keeps comin' in my room and tellin' me to get up," he said.
Jake, I hope you got some rest overnight. You're four years old. It's gotta be stressful.