"He took up a lot of space. Moving around us. Weaving in and out of the aisles. Some ladies were annoyed. An old man behind us snickered and under his breath said, ‘hurry up.’"
“Baby, I need you to stop crying about everything,” I say to my 4-year-old son, followed by a heavy sigh. Another day, another sob fest about something that broke his little heart. He is my sensitive soul, my middle child, my gentle spirit.
