When she had finished, Mum asked me if I had something to say to her. I should have answered with a sincere apology, as I was of course supposed to, but my frustration overcame my feelings of remorse. Between two sobbing hiccups, I muttered the French equivalent to an expletive. I must have underestimated the level of my reply because Mum – calmly but no less furious – asked me: “What did you just say?”
Suddenly, scared by the likely consequence of my rudeness, I answered with a genuine ‘sorry’, realizing I really had done something naughty. I felt Mum’s chest pressing against my back along with her left arm, which was holding me in position. Her right leg was moving, too, for a reason, I couldn’t figure. I finally managed to turn my head backward and was surprised to notice Mum was wearing only one of her slippers.