to be wrong. The grace to forgive—both yourself and your child.
I could have let that moment define our week. I could have held onto suspicion. I could have turned a minor mystery into a major rift.
Instead, I chose humility. I chose curiosity. I chose love.
When my son came home, I showed him the fragments. “I found these in your room,” I said. “I think they’re from Mr. Pinchy’s shell?”
He looked at them. He looked at me. “Oh yeah,” he said. “I kept a piece. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” I said. “I just wanted to know what they were.”
He shrugged. “Cool. Can I go play my game now?”
He didn’t share my panic. He didn’t share my relief. He just shrugged and walked away.
And that was fine. Because the panic was mine to manage. The relief was mine to feel. And the lesson was
