Hated Words

At some point in time, most, if not all, children tell their mother they hate them, whether they mean it and/or understand it at the time. I told my mom I hated her; turns out I told her that because I wanted to go to school all day like Brian. I thought the day Dylan tells me he hates me would be an awful day, but now I find that I don't care. When we make it to that day, I will be ambivilant to his declared hatred purely for the fact that we'll have made it that far. And it will likely mean I've done something right. But I will forever hate the day I heard "aortic valve stenosis" and "coarctation of the aorta." The bottom line, and this is what we're focusing on, is he WILL be fine. In the mean time, the words are hard to digest.