lowered his phone.
“Just for memories.”
That felt strange.
Who takes pictures of a three-year-old’s knees “for memories”?
A few days later, I saw him writing numbers in a small blue notebook.
“What are you writing?”
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
He sighed.
“I’m watching Ben.”
“Watching what?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
I didn’t like that answer.
“If you’ve noticed something about my child, tell me.”
“When I’m sure, I will.”
That was the first time I got angry.
“You’re not a doctor.”
He said nothing.
Over the next two weeks, Ben sometimes seemed more restless after staying with Grandpa. But with a three-year-old, that
could mean anything. Sleepiness. Hunger. Being tired.
He was too young to explain clearly what had happened during the day, what hurt, or why he was uncomfortable.
Then
