You aren't going to leave me here, are you?

The other night I was driving around with Max, and he needed a bathroom break. Well, we were out in the middle of no where and there wasn't really anywhere  to stop, so I offered to pull off the side of the road for him, but he wasn't interested.
A few miles down the road it became apparent that he did want me to pull off the road, but something was clearly bothering him. As we searched for a possible location for a pit stop he whispers "You aren't going to leave me here are you?" Alone. By the side of the road. In the middle of no where. How terrified he must have been to think that someone he loved would even consider doing something like that. After a profuse amount of reassurance he agreed to let me pull over in a well lit, but abandoned parking lot.
After our little pitstop, we continued on our way home, and as the miles passed my sorrow from our little verbal exchange passed as well. I was nearly home when the joy hit. My total elation was not caused by my son's pain, but by the fact that he able to put his fears into words.
Normally instead of asking such a question, he would just lie on the floor kicking and screaming for two hours. Which poses an interesting quandry when you're trying to drive, or shop or do whatever. For him to be able to ask me a question like that is huge for him.

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