I showed up at my in-laws’ house on Christmas Eve—unannounced, and under the glow of the Christmas tree their grandkids were excitedly ripping open presents while my son was on his knees scrubbing the floor in pajama shorts, and my wife was sitting there laughing and chatting like this was normal; I didn’t yell or argue, I walked in, picked my son up, and said exactly five words, and my mother-in-law’s champagne glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the tile—three days later, 47 missed calls.
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