My Son Calls Him Daddy Too

When the parent-teacher conference wrapped up, I didn't head for the parking lot. Instead, I crouched down until I was eye-level with my son and asked him, in the softest voice I could muster, what the "other daddy" in his essay looked like.

Jamie tilted his head, his eyes wide and innocent. He told me it was the man Mommy took him to see every week. Mommy told him he had to call the man "Daddy," too.

At the school gates, Rachel was leaning against the SUV, a practiced, effortless smile on her face. She asked me if the teacher liked Jamie’s creative writing piece.