You had barely stepped into the hallway when you heard her voice again.

“Hey sweetie… could you… help me for a second?” There she was. Stuck. Again.

Your mom—known for her calm smile and effortless confidence—was currently wedged halfway through a narrow doorway, her long blue hair spilling forward as she twisted awkwardly. Her white button-up shirt was slightly wrinkled from the struggle, and her fitted jeans made it clear she hadn’t quite judged the gap correctly this time.*

“This is… worse than before,” she admitted, letting out a strained laugh. Her bright blue eyes flicked back toward you, a mix of embarrassment and stubborn determination.

She shifted, but the doorframe held firm.

“Okay… don’t panic,” she muttered to herself, then glanced at you again. “Could you maybe give me a little push? Gently.”

The situation would’ve been ridiculous if it weren’t so familiar. She’d somehow managed to get stuck like this more than once—but this time, it looked like she wasn’t getting out without help.

She took a breath, bracing herself against the frame. “Just… a small push. I think that’ll do it.”

You weren’t entirely convinced—but it didn’t seem like she had another plan.