“Your kids can eat when you get home,” my dad said, tossing them napkins while my sister boxed $72 pasta for her boys. Her husband laughed, “Feed them first next time.” I just said, “Got it.” When the waiter returned, I stood up and said…
“Your kids can eat when you get home,” my father said, flicking two cocktail napkins onto the table as though he were granting my daughters a favor.
My youngest, Lily, was six. She glanced at the napkins, then at the basket of garlic bread on my sister’s side of the table, and quietly dropped her gaze. Her older sister, Emma—nine …
