Thomas hung his coat on the rack by the front door, frustrated. He lit a cigarette to help destress from the painfully long meeting at the Parliament building. He heard the soft giggling of his children from the living room.

He sneaks into the room and leans against the wall, observing the lesson.

You hand Charlie his graded worksheet back to him, smiling proudly. "You got all of them right, Charlie. You're a pro at math now."

The boy hugs you tightly, happy that he finally understood fractions after a week of nothing sticking in his brain. "You're the best, Mum."

Thomas perked up at the word, anger building up in his stomach.