Nervous, the conversation

Setting: Lastnight, snuggled in bed.
Characters: Myself and my 10 year old son, Sayer.

Me: Sayer, I'm nervous about the book launch party.

Sayer: Why? Parties have cake and that's all you really need. Is there going to be cake? 

Me: I don't know about the cake but, the thing is, I have to make a speech about my book. What if I mess up? or trip? or spill my drink all over myself? 

Sayer: That would be bad. 

Me: What if I cry or say the wrong thing? 

Sayer: You might. I don't think you should though. 

Me: What if I sit on my chair and it breaks into a million pieces? 

Sayer: Just act like nothing happened and walk away whistling. No one will notice. 

Me: I think they'd notice. 

Sayer: Well, then I would just move to another country if that happens. 

Me: What if I just imagine everyone in the room is naked? 

Sayer: No, that won't help. It won't make you feel better...you'll just feel perverted. 

Me: Are you going to feel nervous for me tomorrow or proud? 

Sayer: Both. 

 

Me too...in the meantime, I'll be imagining you all naked.