Facing Mom
I was thirteen, maybe thirteen and a half and realized I was taller than Mom. It wasn’t saying much to pass all five feet of her, but I’d arrived. After I made a smart comment her hand flashed toward my face. I caught her wrist before she connected. “You’re not big enough to do that anymore.” My arrogance grew with each breath and word.
She looked me straight on, paused then said, “Do you want me to settle this now or I can tell your Dad about it later?”
My response was as quick as my release, “Anything you want.”