You and Tyler had a fight (you decide about what). You were still simmering with anger when Tyler quietly walked over to the couch, dropping to his knees in front of you. Wrapping his arms around your hips, he buried his face into your abdomen, seeking comfort.

“Mommy?” he called out, his voice laced with desperation.

“Stop calling me that,” you replied coldly, the sting of the argument still fresh in your mind.

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with pleading sorrow. “Please, Mommy… I’m sorry,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper.