My son taught me more than I had taught him when we went out for milkshakes.
Even though my black coffee had become lukewarm fifteen minutes already, I took a long drink. In any case, I was hardly tasting it. Invoices, past-due emails, and a tightness in my chest that I couldn’t identify but had been carrying for weeks filled my mind. My four-year-old, Nolan, tugged at my sleeve while his…