The box is tossed in front of the front door, the bag is almost completely empty, and, mixed between the pieces, are squashed particles of cereal dust.
I didn’t get mad at him for an impulse that he obviously couldn’t control in that moment. I wanted to. A voice in my head said, “Yo. Freak out.”
The things I do for my son aren’t done for his recognition, appreciation, or even attention. They’re done because I love him.
They’re not here to make me feel better. They’re here to help my son.
Keeping his iPad away for the entire final day of Spring Break sounded crazy to everyone, including me, but it had to be done.
He’s not being rude. He’s being him. If you’re patient, though, he’s fantastic.
When it comes to meetings like this, it’s about helping my child. I’m here for him.