My 12-year-old son reduced another boy to tears by calling his father a loser for bagging groceries, and when that boy begged for mercy, my son showed none. The punishment I gave my boy was harsh and immediate, but what came after is something he’ll carry for the rest of his life.
AdvertisementMy name’s Ethan, and I’m 43 years old. Seven years ago, my wife died in a car accident, and I’ve been raising our son, Caleb, alone ever since.
He’s 12 now, with his mother’s quick laugh and my stubborn streak, and most days I wonder if I’m doing any of this right.I work at the factory on the edge of town. Long shifts that leave my back aching and my hands stained with grease. It pays the bills and keeps us fed.My mom lives with us now, helping with Caleb when I’m working late, making sure he’s never alone. For the past few months, I’d been pulling doubles, barely seeing Caleb except for rushed breakfasts and goodnight texts I sent between shifts.
