It began quietly, in a way I almost ignored. My eight-year-old son had always loved drawing, so seeing papers scattered on the floor was nothing new.
But one evening, as I gathered his notebooks, I froze. On one page were small crosses.
On another, shapes that looked like graves. Then I saw the writing. My name. His name. His father’s name. All written carefully beneath the drawings.
At first, I thought it was something he had seen on television. I asked gently where he got the idea.…CONTINUE READING