My dearest son,
It’s late, you’re asleep, and so is Mama. I’m still up because I’m trying to think of the words I want to share with you but didn’t this afternoon when you grew inconsolably angry. It was yet another example of a reaction you had to a small incident that leaves me worried. Why am I worried about something that, admittedly, was a blip that neither one of us will remember? Because the longer Mama and I wait to help you work through the “big” feelings that sometimes overwhelm you, the harder it will be for you to handle them a few years down the road — at a point in life when bigger boys act on such feelings in ways that sometimes harm themselves and often hurt others.
By the time you’re old enough to read and understand this letter, you will have long forgotten what I’m talking about here. So, I’ll recap what happened. On the car ride home today, you were very upset and had that wounded look you get on your sweet little
