Sometimes, I am jealous. You've landed a killer job, making more this year than I will in 30 years, combined. But then I picture that little boy, crying at the kitchen table over a teacher's declaration that he was stupid. And then I'm just proud.
or ...
You were worried, angry, in go-to mode that night. You shuffled the kid and I into your van, carrying our needed possessions. You took us all to eat Mexican food and didn't mention a word of what had happened. Thank you - I needed to breathe.
And I've just added my two cents.
ReplyDeleteWe should print all three off and give them to him for Christmas. He can burn them in his great big pile of $100 bills.
ReplyDelete