When Meg was six, she asked abruptly one day, “Who is my father?” My second-grade son immediately launched into a lecture. Having just studied synonyms in school, he pompously explained to her that Dad was her father because the word “dad” was a synonym for “father”. After he left the room, I smiled at Meg. “That wasn’t quite what you meant, was it?” She shook her head, brows furrowed. “You mean your birth father?” She nodded, and we shared a smile over her brilliant big brother not getting it for once. I told Meg her birth father’s first name and … Continue reading →