When my son sl:apped me for interrupting his video game, I just lowered my head and walked to the kitchen. I spent three hours baking his favorite triple-chocolate cake

into his headset.

“Trash team! Absolute garbage!”

Marissa wandered downstairs once, barefoot and holding her phone. She stopped when she noticed the cake cooling on the rack.

“Oh,” she said slowly. “So you’re not mad?”

I smiled without showing my teeth. “Would anger help?”

She rolled her eyes. “Honestly, you should appreciate that Evan still lives here.continue reading …