By Star Bobatoon
We are sitting in the parking lot of a small deli off Interstate 95. My 8-year old son has been crying in the back seat of the car for the last 20 miles. I assume his upset involves some interaction with his 3-year old sister but he shook his head when I asked if he wanted to talk about it. I warned that if he didn’t calm himself I would pull the car over and he would have to talk to me. Ten minutes later I pulled off the highway into this parking lot.
I am driving home to Virginia. My children have been in New York with my mother for the last few days while my husband and I attended a conference on Muscular Dystrophy. I have spent the last four days having this disease and the devastating effects it will likely have on my son shoved down my throat in 45-minute increments throughout the course of each day. I went willingly because it is information I needed to know but it was very hard to swallow.
Sitting in silence, I rub his back affectionately and he begins to cry again. When he calms I ask, “what was all [...] continue the story