One night, as I was showering, I could hear my 3-year-old crying. My wife, sitting nearby engrossed in her iPad, seemed unaware of what was going on. When I rushed out of the shower, I found my son covered in red paint, and what I uncovered next revealed a problem far bigger than I could have imagined — one that threatened to tear our family apart.
It all began like any other evening. My wife was relaxing in her chair, absorbed in her iPad, while I decided to take a quick shower, thinking it was the perfect time since the kids were supposed to be in bed. But as I stood under the water, I heard a faint cry. Initially, I thought it was nothing, maybe just a soft whimper, so I dismissed it. But the crying soon grew louder and more intense.
“Daddy! Daddy!” My son’s voice pierced through the sound of the running water.
I quickly turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and rushed to his room. As I walked through the living room, I noticed my wife was still lost in her iPad, seemingly unaware of the chaos unfolding.
“You couldn’t calm him down?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
“I tried three times,” she replied, still not looking up.
No urgency. No concern. Just a casual remark. My frustration grew, but I pushed it aside as I hurried to our son’s room.
What I found there caught me completely off guard. My son was sitting up in bed, crying uncontrollably. Between sobs, he blurted out, “Daddy, I made a mess.”
