Over the weekend I gave my latest short story to my mother to read.  I don’t give them to her for editing purposes, ’cause, well, it’s my mom, and she doesn’t really have it in her to be critical of my stuff.  Then, yesterday:

Mom: Your story was really great.  I really liked it.

Me: Aw, shucks.  (No, really.  I said that.)

Mom:  It’s just that, when I was reading it, I kinda felt like there was something missing.

Me (in my head): OMG, can it be?  Is she actually going to give me a real, honest-to-god critique?   Sweet. This is new.  There must be two blue moons in the sky.

Mom: But then this morning I was looking at it again and I figured out what was missing.

Me: Oh?

Mom: A couple of pages.

Me: …