“I have a secret to tell you,” he said, “And I don’t want you to get mad.” Thoughts scrolled through my mind, rapid fire: had I heard crystal shatter? No. Did the dog still have a tail? Yes. Had I consumed anything unidentified just because he asked me to? No. Is he too young to have committed a crime or surfed for online porn? Yes. I should be safe. “You can tell me anything, and I’ll try not to get mad. What’s up?” He leaned in conspiratorially. He looked left, then right (purely for drama; we were alone in the house) and whispered, “I love Daddy more than I love you.” Read more >