I don't even know why I'm writing this down, it's stupid, kinda. I guess I just need to say it out loud, or... type it. It's 2 AM and I'm sitting here, again, just watching him breathe. My kid. He's little, like, 6 months old. And he's got this little sniffle, a tiny bit stuffed up. Nothing. Everyone says it's nothing. But I just keep watching his chest go up and down, and I listen to every little wheeze, every little… gurgle. Is it worse? Is it getting worse? I keep thinking about that thing, that super rare thing where babies just stop breathing for no reason. SIDS, I guess. But there's this other thing, this rare breathing problem, some kind of failure thing. I read about it, maybe I shouldn't have. But now it's just in my head, like a little monster. And I know, I KNOW it's probably fine. My wife says I'm being ridiculous. My mom, too, god bless her, she's got enough on her plate with dad being so… not himself lately. So I can't really tell them. I can't bother them with this stupid worry. It's my job to keep everything together, right? Always has been. My kids are grown, sort of, they got their own stuff. So now it's my parents, and this new little one, and the house, and work. It's just... a lot. And I don't want to be the one who’s freaking out over a cold. But I can't stop. I just watch him. Every breath. Every single one. I guess I just feel like if I look away, or if I go to sleep, that's when it'll happen. Like if I'm not on guard, then I'm failing somehow. My responsibility. I'm so tired, man. So damn tired. And I know it's probably nothing, but what if it isn't? What if it's the one in a million chance, and I was too tired to notice? I can’t let that happen. Can’t. So I just sit here. And I watch. And I listen. And I try not to think about how tired I am, or how much I miss just, you know, sleeping. For like, more than an hour at a time. This is my life now, I guess. Watching. Always watching.