 All he would do is sleep. Like he'd get home from school, he'd take the nap on the couch for two hours, three hours. Saturday, he'd never leave his room. He'd sleep all day. I finally said to him one day, I said, Chad, why are you so tired all the time? This isn't right. There's something wrong. I gotta hope it's not what I thought it was. I hope it's not what I'm thinking right now. He goes, what are you thinking, Mom? I go, are you doing the drugs?