How We Break the Cycle—One Apology at a Time.

Colorful, messy, and in my face. My child’s job is to be a child, not a parent.

Photo: Allan Mas / Pexels

The car door slams; the side door chimes; my son rushes past. Toys, cartoons, snacks—his destination is pleasure, the specifics unknown.

“Wash your hands!” I shout in my ugly, mom voice that’s prepped for impending disaster…