But my parents? They have always loved me without limits. In 25 years, I’ve never heard them raise their voices at me, never experienced a quarrel that left scars. Our bond feels almost unreal.
My dad sat comfortably on the sofa, watching the morning news with a relaxed demeanor. When he heard my comment, he chuckled warmly.
"Your mother is like that," he said, his voice tinged with pride. "Even when you're in your seventies or eighties, you'll still be her precious son, the pride of our old Montclair Family."
Hearing this, my mother, standing nearby, bristled with mock indignation.
"And what about you?" she retorted, crossing her arms. "Who was the one so excited last night that he couldn’t sleep, staring at his granddaughter like he’d never seen a baby before?"
Caught off guard, my dad coughed awkwardly, trying to save face.
"Why bring that up in front of our son? I just... didn’t sleep enough because I’m old."
My mother rolled her eyes and turned to me with a look of exasperation. We exchanged a conspiratorial glance, both wearing faintly amused expressions.