It’s an ordinary Monday, in that blurry space between autumn and winter, when the sun seems to beat a hasty retreat into alternate hemispheres. I am sitting on a beat-up plastic chair watching a boy - my son - go through non-stop drills at football practice, his orange football boots reflecting the fading sun’s rays. Twice a week, most weeks, I sit watching my son at football practice. This particular Monday, when he is done, we hop into the car, rush through to pick up his younger sister from kindergarten and head through to swimming lessons. And, at home, I sit with him as he does his...