When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed

Worthy.

I wish he had known better.

So I told Oliver:

“If you’re ever at your worst, that’s when I most want the call.”

He answered:

“Even jail?”

I stared.

“Please don’t test the wording.”