No tag, written by anyone, in any house, ever gets to decide that.

Do you hear me?” She looked at him for a long moment, weighing it, the way she weighs everything.

And then Brandon reached over to her pink overnight bag by the closet, and drew out a small red velvet box, and set it gently into her open palms.

Chapter 9 — Will You Still Be My Dad?

“If Grandma ever tries to make you feel invisible again,” Brandon said, “or like you don’t belong, or like you’re less than the other kids — you get to decide whether she gets this box.

Not me.