“More roast beef?” Marie Bond asked her eighteen year old son. “Uh, no thanks, mom,” he replied, “I couldn’t eat another bite.” Marie looked at her only son with concern while worrying that he seemed to be so thin fragile. “Are you sure?” she tried once more time. “I’m sure, Ma,” he chuckled. “What are ya trying to do, fatten me up for market?” “I’m sorry, son,” she replied a little sheepishly, “you’re my only son and I guess I’m just a little too protective.” “I know,” he answered softly, “and I really appreciate it, I really do.”
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