Each afternoon, I asked the usual mother questions.
“How was school?”
“Good.”
“What did you have for lunch?”
“Food.”
That should have been another clue.
“What kind of food?”
“Lunch food.”
Again, seven-year-old logic.
I assumed he was being difficult.
What I didn’t know was that for nearly three weeks, Caleb had been saving most of his lunch money.
Some days he ate an apple left over from the school breakfast cart.
Sometimes a friend gave him crackers.
Once or twice, according to him later, he ate nothing until he got home.
He lied to me about it every evening.
And yes, when I eventually learned that, I was furious.
Not because he wanted to buy Sophie a dress.
Because he was seven.
Seven-year-olds should not be skipping meals to solve grown-up problems.
But I didn’t discover any of it until the Saturday before Sophie’s birthday.
My mother-in-law, Linda, was visiting.
