Before I can answer, Brittany snorts so hard it echoes off the walls, then wails with another unstoppable peel of laughter. “I’m going to pee my pants,” she huffs between squeals, her face reddening as tears fill her eyes.

I can’t help it—I start laughing too, the absurdity infectious, the sound of her unrestrained mirth curling something warm in my chest.

“Why is our son asking about porn shows?” I manage, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye.

Brittany ...