At least I know he knows my cell number in case of an emergency. Sweet boy has called me six times.

We’ve talked through every symptom, including the very normal temperature. I have encouraged. I have reasoned. I have counted down the minutes, talked him through what is to come until he will see me.

He has cried. We have hung up.
He has called again.

“Buddy, let me tell you what is happening to you today. You are having a sad day, and there’s no medicine to make it go away. We just have to finish the day. That’s the only way to make it go away. You can do this. I am so proud of you. And I have every confidence in you.”

I am thankful for the teacher who is taking him for a walk to break today’s cycle. He needs hands-on love.

From someone who is not me.

Damn.

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