My Son Rolled His Eyes and Giggled at Our Waiter with Down Syndrome – So I Taught Him a Lesson He'll Never Forget

I kept my eyes on the road.

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

Still nothing.

He folded his arms.

"You're acting like I committed a crime."

When we pulled into the driveway, he reached for the door.

"Can I go to my room now?"

"No."

He frowned.

"What?"

He stared at me.

"For what?"

"You'll see."

Inside the house, he tossed his shoes near the door.

"I've got homework."

He sighed loudly but followed me into the kitchen.

I pulled out one chair.

"Sit."

He dropped into it with obvious irritation.

"This is ridiculous."

Instead, I walked down the hallway toward my bedroom.

At the back of my closet, behind winter blankets and an old suitcase, sat a faded wooden box.

Dust covered the lid.

I hadn't touched it in almost two decades.