I saw the questioning look in his eyes. I interpreted it as, “Should I tell her? How will she respond?” I had seen that look in his sister’s eyes before, too. It typically appeared when there was something that needed to be said but no one wanted to be the one to upset mom. Someone put a scratch in the floor when they dropped a utensil. A red sock turned the white clothes pink. (Okay, I made that up. We’re not particular about the laundry, and this has never happened to me.) One son backed into the other son’s vehicle. Bad news. Upsetting information. An incriminating tale.
Continue reading “Not My Child’s Job to Protect Me”Not My Child’s Job to Protect Me
