My boy never cries half-assed. It’s something to do with the hormones, how they stifle his emotions until they’re big enough to explode. I’m not surprised when he breaks down; I just pull him onto my lap and let him cry against my shoulder for five minutes. It’s a rough one, tearing his body apart with violent, wrenching sobs, but all I can do is hold him and hum one of my mom’s old lullabies into his hair while he rides it out.
