Mom was instantly in panic mode seeing us outside her hotel door. "What happened? What's wrong? Why aren't you in bed?"
Noah squeezed into the room. "Don't leave us in the hallway, Mom. People will think we're causing trouble."
"Are you causing trouble?" Dad asked from the far side of the room, sitting with Grampa on the small couch.
Mom let me and Dave in, and closed the door behind us. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You kids better not have cooked up some random idea or stunt you want to pull."
"Come on, Mom. Stop being so cranky." Dave guided her to a bed and helped her sit down. "When have we ever made you so worried?"
"Every day of your life." Mom sighed. "Okay. Fine. What's bringing you boys to our room in the middle of the night?"
"It's not middle of the night yet." Noah defended. "And if anything, we're your well-behaved sons. Nothing like the one in Arizona, not sending the slightest news our way."
