One evening, after a shower, I rushed out to find my 3-year-old son crying and covered in red paint, while my wife sat nearby, seemingly lost in her iPad. Feeling confused and frustrated, I soon realized there was a deeper problem—one that threatened our family.
It had been an ordinary night. My wife was in her usual spot, scrolling through her iPad, while I assumed the kids were in bed. I thought it was the perfect time for a relaxing, long shower. As I stood under the hot water, I faintly heard a cry. Initially, I dismissed it, assuming it was nothing serious, but the cry soon intensified, becoming more desperate.
“Daddy! Daddy!” my son’s voice pierced through the sound of running water. I quickly turned off the shower, grabbed a towel, and rushed out. As I passed through the family room, I noticed my wife still absorbed in her iPad, seemingly unaware of the chaos in the other room.
“You couldn’t calm him down?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended. Without looking up, she replied, “I tried three times,” in a tone that sounded indifferent.
