I Let My Son Humiliate Me At Dinner For Half A Minute

for several years.

Our eyes met.

Almost instinctively, I gave him the slightest shake of my head.

Not yet.

Olivia barely looked at the menu.

“We’ll have four butter-poached lobster dinners,” she announced. “Seasonal vegetables. Reserve Chardonnay.”

Daniel hesitated.

“Four, ma’am?”

She finally looked toward me as though she’d forgotten I existed.

“Yes,” she continue reading …