My bubble

The car behind me was on my bumper. The dog was panting. I’m going to say excessively.  My son found the dog annoying and began to complain loudly about how stressed he was feeling. I wasn’t. It just didn’t bother me. Any of it. On this one particular morning, I had my bubble with me. My calm, easy-going, duck back. You know, where you can shrug things off. Not that this was really much to breathe through, just a little distracting. However, it was very bothersome to my son and there are days, where I might have been ranting with him. Just not today. So, we talked a little about his agitation. I said wise things like, ‘You gotta let the little things go and save the stress for times, like when, a Pterodactyl swoops down and attacks your family.’ Which of course, derailed the conversation for a bit, while he informed me how that would be impossible. He said wise things like, ‘It’s even debatable whether there were saber tooth tigers around.’ I replied, ‘Well, whatever, golden eagles, grizzly bears, they’re around. If they were in the back seat panting, we would be right to feel some stress. ‘ Golden eagles don’t pant.’ He says. Still my blood pressure remains steady. You’ve got to find and  hold your own space and not let the dog, or the driver, or the weather, or whatever get in there and ruffle your feathers. He says, ‘yah, well, I’m still glad I’m not riding back home with that dog in the car.’