I’m 35 and when I cross the street with my mom, she still clutches my elbow and firmly guides me across. Or when we’re in a car and we come to a stop, she strikes her arm in front of me, as if that’s going to help me fly through the windshield. When I was younger, that used to bug me and I found it, oh I don’t know, SMOTHERING, but now as an adult, on occasion swimming with piranhas at work, I think it’s rather nice that there’s someone in the world who is so protective of me. There’s no one else who’s going to think that way about you, you know? So I appreciate it. Unfortunately, when I expressed this to my mother, she thought I was being sarcastic and starting yelling. (Not at me, per se; she’s someone who just periodically has to yell during conversation b/c she just HAS to express her point of view. You know, she’ll yell stuff like “BUT YOU’RE SO FAT IN THE MOVIES!” to Paul Giamatti in the neighborhood. Thanks, Ma.) Ahh, sweet mother/daughter bonding. Shoutout to Mom thwarted.