I would like to address this comment, to which I did not reply directly because I was busy accumulating evidence.
Now, I saw that comment and had to laugh; that’s my little smartass, doing his level best to make me look like the crazy overprotective mother.
Which gives me all the excuse I need to tell you just how reassuring he’s been these past weeks since his arrival at Fabulous Bagram, Afghanistan.
OFFSPRING: Apparently there was another IDF alarm—well, I say “apparently,” but I woke up for this one.
ME: Oh? That’s good—you’re getting more aler—
OFFSPRING: So I poked my head out the door to see which side they were—
ME: OH MY GOD.
ME: Don’t do that!
OFFSPRING: Do what?
ME: When they announce there are rockets being fired at you, DO NOT GO OUTSIDE TO LOOK!
OFFSPRING: HOW ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE THEM?
ME: Jesus, protect my boy from his own stupid brain.
OFFSPRING: What’s that?
ME: Nothing. Look, just… promise me you’ll stay safe.
OFFSPRING: I swear on my life—
ME: Uh-uh. I’m not falling for that. Swear on something you value. Swear on… (looks around for inspiration)
A. HAM: PRRRT?
ME: Swear on the rumplefurs and the rumblepurrs.
OFFSPRING: Oh, come on—
ME: Swear it!
OFFSPRING: (huffs) … I swear.
ME: You’ll be safe?
OFFSPRING: I’ll… try.
ME: You’ll come home alive? To your mama who loves you and worries?
OFFSPRING: I promise.
A word on rumplefurs, because I know you also love Offspring so that probably gave you a mini panic attack as well and you could use the diversion.
Alexander Hamilton, we’ve all agreed, has the most amazing furs available on a domestic feline. All of them. All the varieties. He also manufactures something humans have been unable to replicate, an adorably muppet-like disheveled fur that begs for—and is immediately ruined by—petting.
We call it rumplefurs, and it’s our favorite thing, along with his crazy-loud purr, which rumbles through the house when he’s particularly pleased with his family and his place in it, which occurs several times a day. Thus we are treated to the dual pleasures of rumblepurrs and rumplefurs on the regular.
Unless we’re in a war zone, in which case we need to not get ourselves blown the shit up so we can come home.
Seems obvious, right?
Not to Offspring.
OFFSPRING: IDF started while I was at work—
ME: Well, at least you were safe.
OFFSPRING: … so I took advantage of the opportunity and climbed up on the roof to watch.
ME: Don’t ever do that again.
OFFSPRING: It was cool! 
OFFSPRING: It’s fine—
ME: Not ever.
OFFSPRING: But Mooooooom!
 Which, for the record, I would totally be… if he would settle down and be a normal, reasonable human. But won’t and he’s not and here we are.
 Reassurance: expert mode.