I had a nightmare. So my friend asked me what it was. I told him it was him sleeping with my mom. He said I thought only dreams come true.

My wife told me I’m always watching TV and never paying attention to her. So she got a job as a news reporter.

It was an eight-hour drive from New York to Bar Harbor, Maine. Sleet and snow pounded the highway. Annabeth, Thalia, and I hadn't seen each other in months, but between the blizzard and the thought of what we were about to do, we were too nervous to talk much. Except for my mom. She talks more when she's nervous. By the time we finally got to Westover Hall, it was getting dark, and she'd told Annabeth and Thalia every embarrassing baby story there was to tell about me.

Mom, can I have some pie?

You've had my heart since day one, after all you gave it to me. I love you mom.

Mom,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “Listen to me very carefully, okay? And don’t freak.”

“Dez, do not start a conversation like that. It doesn’t instill me with any amount of confidence—especially when it comes from you.